


Hideout

by louvreangel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 19:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louvreangel/pseuds/louvreangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had plenty of places to go on an emergency situation and today, he needed to visit one of them. A particular one. He always noticed the fact that this place made him feel… at home. But that fact scared him. Because then he would want to come everyday. (M for a reason)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Favourite Hideout

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

He had plenty of places to go on an emergency situation. He decided what places would be the safest in the whole London a long time ago, because he always had to be one step ahead of his enemies. These places were the most unexpected ones, so it was a low chance someone actually would pay them a visit to look for Sherlock Holmes. No. They were safe and reliable. And today, he needed to visit one of them. A particular one. Not because he was in danger though. He was just bored and needed some company. As always, John was busy snogging Mary and well… Sherlock didn’t have many friends, now, did he? Calling Mycroft was of course out of question.

As he was walking through the streets, he kept deducing people just for fun. A man who was cheating on three women at the same time was buying flowers for one of those women he was about to meet at a café and lie about why he was so late, then a porn watcher walked past him, and lastly, a drunk couple making out in the alley saw him walking towards them but didn’t stop what they were doing. It repelled him so he decided not to take that road. The wild world outside always frustrated him as much as it fascinated him.

So when he finally reached the apartment, he sighed in relief. Finally some silence and peace.

He opened the door with the spare keys he had and entered the flat, closing the door behind him slowly. He could see the living room from where he stood. The TV was open but no one seemed to be watching it. He frowned and with silent steps, he approached the old couch to find the petite woman lying there, napping. His lips formed a small smile as he sat on the other couch right in front of the one Molly was sleeping on. For a few minutes, he sat there, analyzing Molly but then he gave up. He was tired of deducing Molly every single day and he knew it irritated her so much. He was trying to be respectful towards her.

Suddenly it felt so peaceful that he couldn’t prevent his eyelids from closing. He always noticed the fact that this place made him feel… at home. But that fact scared him. Because then he would want to come everyday. He _did_ want to come everyday. Yet, this was Molly’s place and they agreed on him coming only when it was an emergency. So by sleeping on that couch at that moment, he was actually breaking a rule. Not that he would mind doing so.

* * *

 

Molly scretched her arms wide and yawned, covering her mouth with her small hand. The first thing she noticed was that the TV was on the whole time and she cursed under her breath. Then she sat up to a sitting position and finally noticed Sherlock sleeping on the couch in front of her. Her eyes opened wide, immediately jumping out of her seat and approaching him to examine if there was any wound on him.

Just when she touched his arm slowly, a hand catched hers and stopped her in her tracks. She turned her head and saw Sherlock staring right into her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worried.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat up straight on the couch. “I am fine, Molly. Stop panicking.”

Molly sighed in relief and sat on the couch, right beside Sherlock. She didn’t mind invading his personal space. He always invaded hers anyway. “You know you are supposed to come to my flat only when it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, I know. But I was bored.” Was his only reply before standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

Molly followed him to the kitchen and saw him turning the kettle on. “What do you want, Sherlock?” she asked, her arms folded on her chest. Sometimes he was impossible to understand. Was he high again? Did she need to make him pee in a cup again to see if he had been on drugs? God, she hoped not. Because one time he came to her flat super high and she had no idea what to do. It was probably the longest day of her life.

Sherlock didn’t turn around to answer her as he was making tea for both of them. “I only want to stay here for the night. If that’s okay with you.”

His sincerity was something she still couldn’t get used to. Plus, he was trying to be more polite which was hard to get used to. Sometimes his new behaviour felt so strange to Molly and she just wanted the old Sherlock back. Missing his insults was weird though.

“Okay.” She answered and went back to the living room. Just when she made her way to the bedroom, to change the sheets and everything, Sherlock called after her. He was holding two cups full of tea. She gratefully took the one he offered her from him.

“I’m going to prepare the room now. I know how much you hate to see my stuffed animal on the bed.” She said and chuckled. So did he.

 _Well_ , what everyone didn’t know was that this was the hideout he used the most. And contrary to popular belief, he didn’t make Molly sleep on the couch. Or he himself sleeped on the couch. No. The truth was, _they both sleeped in the same bed_. Molly’s bed. She had a small flat and there was no spare bedroom that she could give Sherlock. But Sherlock, even though he didn’t sleep much, was very picky when it came to where he was sleeping. He would want a comfortable place and a soft pillow. Molly’s company was a plus to all of this.

According to Molly, Sherlock has seen the most private thing Molly had. Her bedroom. And the stuffed bear that she always held while sleeping. It was childish, yes, but it made her feel safe. She would sometimes talk to the bear too. It helped her relax after a long day at the morgue with the dead. She didn’t have much friends as everybody knew and she accepted that fact a long time ago.

She put Ted—the stuffed bear, into the closet and renewed the sheets. She also put a second pillow on the bed, which was Sherlock’s favourite because it was soft just like he enjoyed. The bed was a two-sized one even though she lived alone so both of them could sleep comfortably. Well, at least as comfortable as it could be when sleeping in the same bed with Sherlock Holmes—her crush.

“I see Ted is back in the closet.” A voice spoke from behind her and she jumped slightly. She could never get used to Sherlock sneaking up on her like that.

“Yes, because of you Mr. Holmes.” She joked and turned around to face him. She didn’t notice how close he stood in front of her before. His closeness was still surprising even after all this time.

He smiled and leaned in closer. Their lips brushed and she let out a small sigh against his lips, already feeling familiar to his touch.

Okay, yes, _again,_ _contrary to popular belief_ , they wouldn’t just go to bed and sleep as far as they can be from each other. Instead, Sherlock would put an arm around her waist and pull her closer. And everytime he did that, Molly would turn around to look at his face, seeing his beautiful blue eyes shining even when it’s too dark to see. Then he would lean in and close the small gap between them, pulling her into a smooth kiss. They would kiss with their tongues, both fighting for dominance. Yes, that sounds weird when we’re talking about Molly but in bed, she was something different.

“You’re not high, are you?” she would ask, every single time.

This answered mostly changed to the occasion. “I’ve smoked two cigarettes, does that count?”

“No.”

“Good.” Then he would bite her lower lip, earning a moan from her. His favourite part was when he was kissing her neck, nibbling on her earlobe. He always _loved_ to play with the most sensitive parts on her skin. Especially, her jawline. He would suck her neck, leaving purple marks on her skin on purpose.

“Sherlock” she would whisper, surrendering against him. His kisses were like magic. They would make her brain go on a vacation and fire up all her body like dynamite. God, _how good it felt_. She always dreamt of it and it became true. What could she want more from life?

And today was no different. Only they were not in the bed. He started off early this time. His patience was gone and he didn’t want to wait more. They started walking towards the bed while kissing each other with such enthusiasm just like always.  It felt familiar, it felt good, it felt satisfying… It was all they needed. Each other.

At first, she didn’t give much thought to it but when she noticed she only had her bra and underpants on, she felt scared. Sherlock only had his boxers on and Molly could swear she had no idea how they ended up like that. It was like she was in a trance just a few minutes ago and she just woke up from it.

“Sherlock, wait…” was all she could say after mustering some courage.

Sherlock stopped when he was kissing the area just a little below her belly button. “What?” He didn’t mean to be rude or he didn’t want to sound irritated but he was irritated. He was hard, his hardness was throbing so bad and he needed her right away.

Molly bit her lip nervously. What was she going to say? That she didn’t want to do it? She had to believe it herself before saying it out loud anyway. She’s wanted him. For a long time. And when it was finally happening, why was her logic telling her this was so wrong?

“I… I don’t think we should be doing this.” She said and sat up, pulling her legs to herself. She wrapped her arms around her legs protectively.

Sherlock arched a brow and caressed her left arm slowly. This made her relax a bit more. Then he took her hand in his. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, sitting in front of her.

Molly’s eyes opened wide and she opened her arms to protest. “No, you—” Before she could say anything further, Sherlock took advantage of her opened arms and wrapped his arms around her waist, turning them into a position where Molly sat right on his lap.

Molly’s heart started beating crazy and she found it hard to breathe while looking at the beautiful body of the man lying underneath her. He was smirking and she bit her lip, her face as red as a tomato.

“That wasn’t fair.” She murmured under her breath, realising he asked her if he did something wrong on purpose. He knew she would open her arms instinctively to protest. It was a reflex she had. She hated his intelligence sometimes.

Sherlock put his hands on her hips, holding them there still. “You stopped me. _That_ wasn’t fair.” He murmured and pulled her down a little bit. He knew her heart was beating crazy and he liked it. He was teasing her, enjoying it too. “Are you uncomfortable? You look like you’re not happy sitting on me.” he asked, knew it would anger her.

Molly slapped his arm lightly, pouting. “Shut up.”

Sherlock’s smirk widened as he pulled her down more and was inches away from her lips now. “As you wish.” He said before pulling her to another hot kiss. Their lips crashed and there were no thoughts, no doubts anymore. Molly let him suck all her energy out of her. His kisses were hot on her neck, lips, breasts, thighs… She didn’t know when she was underneath him again but she didn’t need to know. All she could see was him and how beautiful he was while thrusting in and out of her. She never believed he was a virgin like the others. The devilish look in his eyes when someone uttered the word “sex” always gave away the fact that he knew _so much_ about it. And she was almost certain that he had done it with The Woman. Not that she cared, not anymore but it still annoyed her.

“Have you had sex with The Dominatrix?” she suddenly blurted out, making Sherlock stop all so sudden.

He narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Molly? Is that what you are asking me _right now_ , while I’m _doing_ you?”

Molly bit her trembling lip nervously. “I… It just popped up in my mind and—”

“Oh so you think about who I have had sex with before you.” he said, completely annoyed.

“N—no I… What I was trying to say… I—”

“Stop stammering Molly, for God’s sake!”

“Don’t shout at me!”

Both of them were irritated and the lust was slowly fading away, leaving itself to anger. They were having a good time, so why did she have to ruin it?

Suddenly Sherlock locked his eyes to her lips, which she had been biting for almost five minutes now. It annoyed him more.

“And stop biting your damn lip.” He demanded as he leaned in and took her bitten lip to his mouth, tasting the little amount of blood she caused because she bit so hard. Then he bit her lip too. She moaned into his mouth. If she could bite her lip, so could he, right?

He let go of her lip, licking his lips. “I’m still inside you Molly, do you really want me to answer your question honestly?”

Molly swallowed hard and nodded. Did she really want to know the truth? Maybe it was wrong of her to have asked such a personal question…

Sherlock sighed. “She wanted to have sex with me. A several times. And I rejected her every single time.”

Molly was surprised to hear this answer. “Really? Why?”

“Because she _repelled_ me, Molly.”

“And I don’t?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, you’re annoying me.” he said as she giggled. Of course she knew she didn’t repell him. If she did, he wouldn’t be in this bed with her.

* * *

 

When she woke up in the middle of the night, she found Sherlock wearing his trousers silently. She knew she wouldn’t find him in the bed when she woke up in the morning but she still hoped.

With a tear falling down from her cheek, she turned her back to him and pretended to be still asleep.

“I know you’re awake, Molly.” He said as he climbed back to the bed.

Molly didn’t make a move, still pretending for no reason. Sherlock rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist, forcing her to turn around to face him.

She was sad but angry at the same time. She looked at him, her lips a thin line.

“Lestrade texted me about a case. He needs my help. I’m going there.” He knew he owed her an explanation. John always said that leaving a woman alone in the bed after a good sex was never a good thing. That it was disrespectful and rude to the woman.

Molly’s eyes softened. “Okay.” She whispered, feeling better now. He told her where he was going and it was a good excuse.

Sherlock smiled and pressed a small peck to her forehead before getting up from bed. He wore his jacket and Molly watched him do so.

Then he turned around one last time before going out of the bedroom door. Molly wasn’t going to get out of the bed because she was naked and it would make her feel embarrased even if he saw her naked just a few hours ago.

“I’ll see you at Bart’s, then.” He said and she nodded, watching him leave. It was then she started crying, after being sure he actually left.

* * *

 

It was two days after she heard from him again.

_Come if convenient. **SH**_

_Molly hesitated before answering him. Any particular reason? **xM**_

_I solved the case. **SH**_

_And I missed you. **SH**_

_Meaning you’re bored. **xM**_

_Yes, but that has nothing to do with me missing you. **SH**_

_Yeah right… **xM**_

_Molly… **SH**_

She smiled at the phone, knowing exactly how he emphasized the “o” and extended her name while speaking at his baritone voice. It was as if she could hear his voice through a text message.

She sighed and gave up fighting him. She wanted to see him too anyway. _I’ll be there in twenty. **xM**_

_Don’t take too long. **SH**_

_I really missed you. **SH**_

_If you don’t believe me, I can show you how much I missed you when you come over. **SH**_

Molly laughed at the text and pulled the cover over the corpse’s head. _That wasn’t appropriate. **xM**_

_I know it wasn’t. **SH**_

_I am waiting. **SH**_

With that, she felt goosebumps all over her body. She quickly finished the files and gathered her things. She almost forgot to lock the morgue. _Damn this man_ , she thought as she called a taxi and made her way to Baker Street.

* * *

 

**You can also read this on fanfiction.net, I've sent all 16 chapters there. Thanks for reading! I'll send the next chapter soon :)**


	2. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

She kept rewinding  _that night_  with Sherlock in her head. The way he touched her, kissed her, held her… Even remembering the smallest detail of that night, made her go crazy. Her lust would come quickly to the surface and blur her mind, detaining her from doing her job properly. She had to put an end to this, she knew that, yet she was in a taxi to go to Baker Street.

She sighed as she read his messages a few more times. He said he  _missed_  her. Could that be true? Could Sherlock even  _miss_  someone, apart from John? If so, did that mean he cared about her? Well, he told her that she mattered the most and she counted but she never truly believed those words anyway. She always thought that Sherlock felt like he owed her so he told her some sweet stuff to pay his debt.

The taxidriver eventually had to speak pretty loud to get her attention because she wouldn't hear him. Her thoughts were fogging her mind. She paid the taxi and muttered small apologize to the guy. She came right in front of 221B's door after a few hesitant steps, standing in front of it a little while. Then the door flew open and she saw Mrs. Hudson smiling at her widely.

"Oh, come my dear! Sherlock told me you were at the door." She said and let Molly in, hugging her tightly.

"How did he even know I was at the door?" she muttered and let Mrs. Hudson lead the way to Sherlock's flat.

"Sherlooooock, your guest is here." Yelled Mrs. Hudson, winking at Molly. She had to fight herself not to roll her eyes because that'd be rude.

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson, leave us alone now." He said as he pulled Molly by her arm into the flat and closed the door to Mrs. Hudson's face. They heard her mumble something before going down the stairs to her own flat.

Molly looked at Sherlock and saw a mess.  _A serious mess_. He only had a robe on him, his hair messed up, his eyes had purple circles under them and his body looked thinner than usual. How could someone get to this state in just a few days? Molly could tell he had heroin in his system and could tell he injected it by his arm. That explained why he was texting her weird messages. But she could feel the anger build up inside her. She slapped him three times for this before, so how many times more did he need to get slapped by her to come to his senses? Of course if he would come to his senses at all.

Though, before she could say anything, he crashed his lips to hers and she had to tug at his tshirt to stop herself from falling to the ground. The kiss was so sudden and it made her legs go all dizzy.  _Damn this man and his affect on me_ , she thought. She knew it was wrong of her to continue the kiss but she couldn't get to stop herself. She missed the feel of his warm lips on hers. Especially his hands on her skin.

_Wait, what?_

She noticed that his hand already made its way inside her tshirt. He was touching her bare skin with his big hands, caressing every spot on her upper body. That's when she knew she had to stop him,  _immediately_. She pulled away from him abruptly.

"We can't." Was the only thing she said and turned around to leave. Because she knew if she didn't leave now, she wouldn't be able to stop him the second time he kisses her. And she knew  _he would_  kiss her again.

Sherlock pouted. "Why not?"

"Are you really asking me that?" she asked him with anger. "What's  _wrong_  with you? How could you?!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat on the big couch. "I was bored." He knew exactly what she was talking about and he was not going to deny it. There was no point in denying when there was no way to fool a successful pathologist.

"Oh, so you were  _bored,_  then you injected yourself some heroin and then you were bored  _again_ , and you texted me to have sex with you." she stated, feeling more and more angry every second.

"Well I wouldn't put it that way but yes. Quite correct." He said and lay on the couch. He was feeling too tired to talk.

Molly's eyes opened wide and she—almost—ran to the couch and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit upright. "You piece of shit." She yelled at him and made an attempt to punch him.

The attempt failed when Sherlock grabbed her wrist, squeezing it tightly. She looked at him right in the eye and saw something that she couldn't name.

His tone was cold, his eyes dark. "I might not have said something the first three times but you don't stand a chance the fourth time, Molly."

She tried to pull her wrist free from his grasp but failed. He held her wrist a little too strong for her liking. Then she named that  _something_  in his eyes. It was violence. At that moment, he saw her as an  _enemy_. His crystal blue eyes made that perfectly clear to her.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, frightened by his actions. So this was Sherlock when he was high and bored at the same time.

He narrowed his eyes and with a quick move pulled Molly closer to himself. When he pulled a little too sudden, she fell on him. She was now sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around her hips possessively. Molly was looking at him with wide eyes, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. So when he crashed her lips on hers again, she didn't do anything to stop him. His actions showed her clearly that she wouldn't be able to escape his hold even if she wanted to.

"I had to make a choice Molly." He whispered at her neck, his breath tickling her. "I was either going to inject another dose or…" He sucked her earlobe and earned a moan before continuing. "…or I was going to call you." Then he put his lips on hers again, silencing her before she could even open her mouth to say something.

But she didn't want to have sex with him. Well, she  _wanted_ to have sex with him  _of course_ , but not when he was as high as a fucking kite up on the sky. That's why she gathered all her strength, pushed him as hard as she could to keep him away, then stood up and left 221B running. She knew she forgot her purse with everything in it—phone, wallet, cash—there but she didn't care. Sherlock would come to his senses in a few hours and maybe then they would have a sensible talk about not doing drugs again. Or about not calling Molly after doing drugs. But right now, she had to keep himself away from him because she knew she was weak when it came to him and she could easily let him fool her. So she ran all the way home and started crying once she was finally inside.

* * *

It was midnight when she was finally relaxed, watching the TV. She made herself some tea and opened her favourite TV show, watching it happily. So when she heard the door's lock click, she knew it was Sherlock instantly. She turned the TV off and put her tea on the coffee table.

Sherlock closed the door behind him and made his way to the living room. Molly stood up from the couch and stayed exactly where she was. She could see that he was not high anymore and he had an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry for today Molly. I'm aware I scared you off." He said with his low baritone voice and put her purse on the couch before turning around to leave. Molly was about to reach out and hold his arm but he stormed out of the house, leaving a dumbfounded Molly behind. She then knew that she screwed things up when she left 221B that afternoon. But how could he leave without saying another word? He didn't even apologize properly. _I hate you_ , Molly's heart screamed as she curled up on the couch and started crying her lungs.


	3. Two Cups of Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

Four days passed and Molly heard nothing from Sherlock whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no nothing. The guy who used to stop by the morgue almost everyday had disappeared for four days. It was  _unbelievable_. They were both escaping from each other like highschool teenagers. They both knew they had to sit down and talk about the past events but neither had the courage to do that yet. Sherlock was new to these kind of…sentiment. He was confused, scared and irritated at the same time. His eyes were always on his phone, waiting for a call or text from Molly. So when someone else called or texted, he would open the phone yelling at them.

The worst part was, he was  _counting days_. He  _never_  counted days. But his patience was running out and he was getting more and more angry at Molly everyday. She  _literally_  ran away from him, pushed him away. When she left 221B running, he stared at the skull on top of the fireplace. He hid some heroin there before and now he felt like he needed it too. But then his mind palace opened the door to Molly's special room and he froze. Her displeased face, the tears falling down from her cheeks, the sadness in her eyes… They were unbearable. So he threw all the heroin fiercely to trash and went to bed to sleep. But he dreamt of Molly the whole time.

* * *

Molly was fed up. She needed to put an end to this. So she decided on calling Sherlock to meet him somewhere. Sherlock was a baby when it came to these kinda situations and Molly knew it very well. Just this once, she was going to put down her walls and go talk to him.

_We need to talk._ _ **xM**_  She texted him on lunch break. She expected to get an answer by evening but a few seconds passed and her phone rang. Why the hell was he calling? She wasn't ready to hear his voice yet. That's why she texted him in the first place anyway.

She answered the phone, her hands trembling. "Hello?"

Sherlock took a deep breath in before answering. He didn't notice how much he missed her voice. "Hello Molly."

She bit her trembling lower lip and closed her eyes. She needed to calm herself down. She wasn't fifteen anymore. "We need to talk." She repeated her message. She didn't know what else to say.

"Indeed. Could you stop by Baker Street when you're done with work? I just finished a case so I'm free for the rest of the day." He explained.

Her eyes snapped open. She was afraid to go there because of what happened the last time. What she saw in his eyes scared the hell out of her that day. But she knew he wasn't high anymore so she knew it wouldn't do any harm to pay him a visit at Baker Street. "Okay." She replied and hung up the phone. Seemingly, the rest of her day after the lunch break was going to pass very slow.

* * *

When she was in front of Sherlock's flat door, she hesitated before ringing the bell. She felt like running away again. Why was she acting like a coward she didn't know. She became much braver around Sherlock after all that  _help him fake his death_ deal. So why chicken out now?

She sighed and turned around. She stepped a few stairs down, knowing she wasn't doing the right thing. But like always, Sherlock knew she had been standing in front of the door the entire time. When he heard her leaving, he quickly opened the door and grabbed her by the wrist, turning her to him. She was startled by his sudden move and looked up at him.

"I won't let you slip away from my arms again.  _Not again_." He whispered and pecked her lips, trying to show her how he felt. He was sad and scared of losing her. They were in a weird relationship with no name, that's all they knew. But he knew what these feelings were. Something people called  _love_. Though he never admitted it, he was quite fond of Molly. That's why the last thing he wanted would be to hurt her. And he hurt her four days ago. He had to make it up to her.

"I'm truly sorry." He whispered to her lips.

She licked her lips instinctively and closed her eyes to control her already sped up breathing. "Do you mean it?"

Sherlock smiled, their foreheads touching each other. "I know it's hard for you to believe me after all I've done but… Yes. I  _do_  mean it. I am sorry for doing drugs. I promised myself before that I would  _never_  do drugs again when I'm bored. But then I couldn't stop myself..."

Molly knew he was being sincere and he meant every word he said. She felt happy to see him finally  _trying_  to give up on drugs. "I can help you get through it. You know, the lack of drugs will start showing its side effects in a few days. I can be with you to make sure you don't touch them again." She looked up and saw him smiling. Sherlock saw in her eyes she was very determined and her body posture showed him that she wasn't going to back up from her offer. It made him truly happy to see she still cared for him.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist slowly and led her to the living room, hugging her while walking, not letting go. "Okay. But you know you will be dealing with  _me_ , not a  _normal_  drug addict." When they were in front of the long couch, he stopped. He looked at her, trying to find some kind of permission in her eyes. And when she smiled at him widely, he pulled her to the couch, making them lie in a position where he was on top of her.

"I didn't say I forgave you though." Molly said with a wicked smile on her face. She forgave him long ago, they both knew that. Sherlock knew she was so obviously trying to seduce him. So he returned her smile with a wicked smile on his own face.

Sherlock started planting sweet kisses along her jawline and Molly sighed, giving in to this wonderful feeling. She felt relieved, calm… As if all that stress and anger has vanished into thin air. She remembered how much she missed  _him_. The warmth of his body was warming her up, the cold she felt inside her already gone.

She let her hands go up to Sherlock's hair, stroking his black curls with pleasure. She loved doing that and he loved it when she did that. He smiled against her neck, sucking the area right under her ear. Molly tugged on his curls, moaning at the same time. Sherlock's one hand made its way to Molly's lower body as the other one grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing it through the shirt she had on.  _Too much clothing_ , Sherlock thought and started unbuttoning her shirt.

But Molly stopped him by taking his hands in hers. "Not here. Bedroom." was all she could say when her heart was beating crazy.

Sherlock nodded and stood up, taking Molly's hand and leading them to the bedroom. Once they were inside the bedroom, he closed the door behind them and pinned her against the door, crashing his lips to hers, forcing his tongue inside her mouth. She gladly opened her mouth, tasting him. She could taste mint and cigarettes on his tongue but she had no strength at that moment to lecture him about not smoking anymore, that it was bad for his health. All she could think of was how beautiful his hands caressed her hips. She put her hands on his shoulders as he grabbed one of her legs, pulling it up to himself.

Molly's legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist. Sherlock fiercely held her bum and pulled her up a little more so that he could position himself to her entrance better. His cock was throbbing so bad it hurt but he was not going to rush anything. He wanted to pleasure her more than he wanted to pleasure himself because he broke her heart just a few days ago. He had to make that up to her.

He tried so hard not to rip her shirt off while he was unbuttoning it. When her shirt was thrown to the floor, he took a look at her black lace bra. How beautiful it fit her small breasts was all he could focus on. He smiled devilishly and bit her bra, pulling it as hard as he could with his teeth. Molly's eyes opened wide.

"Sherlock! That's my favourite bra!" she protested as he kept biting and pulling the bra with full force.

"What a shame then." He said when he finally managed to rip a big part of the bra's left side. The piece of lace was hanging out of his mouth and Molly pouted.

"It wasn't nice of you." she muttered as he removed the lace from his mouth. She bit her lip when he slowly sucked on her nipple, biting it lightly. When it became purple enough for his taste, he started working on the other nipple, sucking and biting at it just like he did to the other one. Molly bled her lower lip by biting it so hard, trying to stop herself from moaning loudly. He was irresistable and she couldn't hold herself back anymore. She started moaning, gasping, saying his name over and over again like a prayer. While he was still sucking her nipple, his hand made its way to her cunt, feeling the hot wetness there. He teasingly touched there, fingers caressing it up and down. Molly held her breath, eyes closing with desperation. She needed to feel  _more_.

She pushed her body closer to his hips, feeling his hardness through his trousers. That's when he stopped teasing and slid a finger in her. "Oh god…" she breathed out, moving to his fingers inside herself. Then he slid two more fingers and twisted them inside, touching her clit, her most sensitive area. She tried to get herself back together, tried to open his shirt buttons but couldn't because of her trembling hands. Then she tried to unbuckle his trouser's belt, this time being succesful despite how bad her hands were trembling. She slowly slid her hands into his trousers, into his boxer, finding his hard cock. She stroked it with the tips of her fingers, teasing him just like he was teasing her.

Sherlock noticed this and growled. He pulled his fingers back from inside her and held her legs with both his hands. His hold on her legs tightening every second, hurting her more and more. His hold was painful but she didn't care. She knew she would have purple marks on her legs later but it wasn't important. Not now.

He was losing his control. He had to have her.  _Now_. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. No more teasing, no more games. All he needed was to be inside her, filling her, feeling her.

With his hands still holding her legs, he carried her to the bed, her arms locked around his neck. When they were both lying on the bed, they started taking both their clothes off. Molly couldn't exactly remember when and how they were left with nothing on their bodies, completely naked. And she absolutely had no idea when on earth Sherlock put on a condom.

She tugged on his beautiful black curls, pulling him closer to her for a passionate kiss. They were kissing, tasting each other. Sherlock's hand squeezed her breasts, listening to Molly moan into his mouth. How good it felt to hear her moan underneath him. How good it felt to feel Molly wet, all for  _him_.

When he felt like his sanity was slipping away from him, he thrust himself inside her, surprising her with the sudden action. Molly's eyes snapped open and she screamed his name in vain, wrapping her legs around him to feel him more. Then they both started moving, both at the same speed and rhythm. He fastened up, trying to feel every inch of her inside.

"God, oh god yes…" she whispered, biting her lip, bleeding it again.

Sherlock grinned devilishly at the sight of her biting her lip and he took her lower lip inside his mouth, sucking it and tasting the blood on his tongue.

Molly put her hands to his back, caressing it up and down. She could feel she was close. Her eyelids were closing slowly. She threw her head back and arched herself to him, closing the few inches between them. But with one really hard thrust, she— _absolutely_  accidently—nailed his back and scratched it, making it bleed. She kept screaming his name, moaning a few things that she couldn't even understand herself. But he understood them all. She wanted him to fuck her, she wanted him to move deeper, she wanted him to be harder. And he obeyed. He started moving deeper, so deep that after some time Molly felt like he was about to pass through her and start doing the bed.

It kept going on like that for a few more minutes and then Molly couldn't hold herself anymore. She screamed and came, her vagina tightening around his hard cock. Sherlock growled and thrusted in her a few more times before he also came undone. He buried his head into her neck, trying to control his breathing. Then they shared a few more sloppy kisses before rolling to their sides.

"I'll be right back." Sherlock said and kissed her forehead, going to the bathroom. Molly sighed, totally satisfied. She was going to wait for him to come back but she was too tired to keep her eyes open. She fell asleep with a stupid but sweet smile on her face.

* * *

A kiss on her neck made her open her eyes and notice the sunlight coming through the window. It was the first time she ever woke up in the morning and found Sherlock beside her.

"Morning." He whispered to her ear, kissing her earlobe.

"Morning." She replied and felt his warm body behind her. He pressed himself more to her back and his kisses became hotter on her neck. He bit an area on her neck that was already swollen from yesterday's lovebites.

"God, I love it when you do that." She whispered. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His hands caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly.

She giggled with pleasure. "Sherlock. I've got to go to work." She said weakly.

"You still have an hour." He responded, his hands grabbing her ass.

She was about to say something else but then he slid two fingers inside her anal, making her scream loudly. "Sher…" she couldn't find her voice to continue what she was saying. She was so tight, so hot for him that Sherlock heard nothing she said if she said anything at all anyway.

Before he could continue what he was doing, they heard Mrs. Hudson's voice calling for them from the living room. Molly silently thanked her for coming or she would never be able to stop this irresistable man.

Sherlock pouted as he saw Molly collecting her clothes from the ground. He was about to say something but Molly dashed to the bathroom, leaving a dumbfounded Sherlock. He rolled his eyes and wore his clothes, going to the leaving room to see Mrs. Hudson tidying the place.

"Can you make two cups of tea, Mrs. Hudson?" he asked as he sat down in front of his desk, paying full attention to the newspaper Mrs. Hudson brought. He needed a case and Lestrade still didn't call him.

"Not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson replied before going into the kitchen to make two cups of tea, not sure why she had to make  _two cups_  of tea. Though her question was cleared up when she saw Molly leaving the bathroom, going back to the bedroom on her tiptoes, trying to be as silent as she could. Mrs. Hudson gasped, a hand flew to her mouth to cover up a surprised scream. But she soon gathered herself and uttered no word about it.

* * *

It was later on that evening when Molly recieved a text from Sherlock just as she was locking up the morgue.

_Lestrade called me for a case. I'll be out of town for a couple of days._ _**SH** _

She hesitated a little before answering. Why was he explaning this to her? It confused her.  _Okay?_ _ **xM**_

_I won't do drugs while I'm away from… you._ _**SH** _

She smiled when she read the text.  _Okay. Be careful._ _ **xMH**_

_Always am._ _**SH** _

* * *

**Okay, I think this whole chapter included nothing but smut. But, this is an M fanfiction and I warned you so… Hope I didn't disgust anyone. LOL**

**The next chapter will have more fluff then sex and you will see more character developement, I promise. And like always, please leave a review, it'd only take a few seconds of your time. They make my day and they are my inspiration to continue writing.**

**See you on the next chapter!**

**xoxo Louvreangel**


	4. Misunderstood Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

"That's it. I am  _not_  even going to bother with this shit." Molly snapped and threw the newspaper to the wall in front of her. She then sat on the armchair for a few minutes, trying to calm herself, trying to come up with a logical explanation. She glanced at the newspaper lying on the ground, the page of the shocking news still opened. She closed her eyes for a second, holding her tears back. She was acting like a weak woman but she wasn't like that anymore. No. Just because she had no calls whatsoever from Sherlock for a week now didn't mean the news were true. Just because the newspaper said that Sherlock Holmes was having an affair with London's one of the richest men's wife, didn't mean it was true. Everyone knew how newspapers exaggerated everything.

After not being able to hold herself back and crying her lungs out for an hour, she decided she had to know the truth. Even if the truth would hurt as hell.

She dialed John's number, hesitating for a moment before pushing the yes button.

He picked up after three rings. "Hello Molly."

"Hi John. Can we meet after work?" she came straight to the point.

John was confused but did not question her. "Sure. I'll pick you up from Bart's, okay?"

"Okay." She replied and hung up. She just hoped John would tell her the truth. He was Sherlock's bestfriend and she hoped he wouldn't protect his friend. After crying a few more minutes, Molly tried to get herself back together. She still had work to do and she needed to focus on her work rather than focusing on the news. She once more cursed at the newspaper and went back to morgue, finally leaving the locker room that she had been in for more than two hours.

* * *

When John and Molly met at a café near her house, there was nothing but an awkward silence between them. So she decided to cut the basic conversation and came to the point.

"Is it true? What the newspapers say?" she asked.

John arched a brow. "Are you asking about the affair?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. Sherlock didn't give me much information about it."

Molly narrowed her eyes. "Cut the crap, John. I know you were with him during the case."

John's eyebrows raised with surprise. "How do you know that?"

Molly forgot John didn't know about anything that has happened between her and Sherlock. He didn't know that Sherlock visited her once in a while at her flat, neither did he know that they were having sex. No, they weren't in a relationship but they had something going on and they both knew that. Though, when Molly thought about it, even if Sherlock was having an affair with someone's wife, Molly had no right to say something about it. She was not his girlfriend, not even his fuck-body. She was just…  _his pathologist_.

"He told me when he came to borrow an extra head for his experiment." She lied, keeping her cold poker face… if she had one.

" _Cut the crap_ , Molly." He quoted her. "Lestrade called him for a case a week ago, and it was in the morning when he got the call according to what he told me, then we both immediately went to the airport and left town. So if he didn't fly to Bart's, there was no way he visited you at Bart's to borrow a head for an experiment while we were on bloody plane."

Molly gulped loud enough for John to hear. She bit her lower lip, remembering how Sherlock hated it when she did that.

"So… What's going on between the two of you?" John asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

Molly sighed, knowing she couldn't lie anymore. John wouldn't believe her. "We… You know… He sometimes visits me at my flat." She had no better way to explain it.

John's eyes opened wide. "So you and him… Are you guys in a relationship?" he asked with a questioning look in his eyes.

Molly laughed. It sounded weird,  _them being in a relationship_. "No, John. We are not in a _relationship_. Do you even hear yourself?" she asked sarcasticly, still laughing. But her laughter soon became cries, unable to hold her tears back. John immediately hugged her, let her cry on his shoulder.

"Molly, I seriously don't know what exactly is going on but you know how he was with Janine. He played with her just to get into Magnussen's office. I bet he's doing that sort of thing now too. I never saw him visiting a woman's flat  _regularly_  before. Even  _that_  is a big progress for him. Do you understand what I mean?"

Molly didn't know if John was saying all this sweet stuff just to soothe her but she didn't care. It made her feel better. Her crying slowly stopped and she nodded, muttering a silent  _thank you_  to him before leaving the café without saying another word. She felt tired. She just wanted to go home and sleep for three days straight if possible.

* * *

Molly was having a nightmare where Sherlock was kissing that woman in front of her. She started struggling with the sheets under her, sweating a lot. Her eyes were closed tight, murmuring a few things in her sleep that made no sense.

"Molly." Someone whispered in her ear and she knew exactly who that  _someone_  was.

"No, go away." She told him in her dream. Sherlock was running after her, laughing at her for being such an idiot. He was telling her how he played with her and now that he was finished with her. When she started crying in her sleep, she felt someone shaking her a little by the shoulders.

That made her eyes snap open. She was panting, sweating as if she had been running for hours.

She looked beside her to see Sherlock looking at her, his face calm and beautiful as always. With an angry expression on her face, she turned around from him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips on her neck.

"You should have asked  _me_ , not  _John_." He whispered to her ear, kissing it at the same time.

Molly didn't even ask him how he knew that. He always knew everything. "So you're really having an affair?" she asked, ignoring what he said completely.

He huffed. "Don't be ridicilous Molly." He made her turn around and face him. "My closeness to the woman was for the case. There was no  _affair_. After the case ended, she told me that she thought her husband was cheating on her and I helped her catch his husband on act. That way, she can now get all his property from him when divorcing. And if you've noticed, the photo on the newspaper was just a simple photo of me holding a lady's hand when she was getting out of a car. The  _affair_  thing was all made up by those stupid reporters." He explained, looking into her eyes while doing so. He was being sincere.

Molly felt like a big weight lifted up from her chest. "Thank you for explaning." She said and hugged him, putting her head to his chest. His rapid heartbeat was so calming that she felt her eyelids slowly closing.

"I have enough in my life with what I have with you anyway." He sighed before also falling asleep himself.

* * *

When Sherlock woke up, he saw Molly caressing his arm, looking up at him with her chocolate brown eyes. How beautiful they looked in the morning. Lying like this with her, waking up with her, her being the first person he sees when he wakes up… Never had he thought that this kind of sentiment would feel so familiar, so warm.

"Morning sleepyhead." Molly said with a big smile on her face and pecked his lips.

If it was three years ago, he would immediately run away from this house and never come back. He would be disgusted by her closeness, cheerful behaviour. That's why he never before committed himself to anyone, he never felt sentiment, he never felt so close to anyone. But right now, all he wanted to do was to hold Molly and kiss her, hug her, lie there for the rest of the day. All the work could wait.

"Morning." He said and mirrored her smile, pecking her lips just like she did to him.

"I'm hungry. Gonna prepare breakfast. Do you have time? I mean, I'd like it if you stayed for breakfast." She said and blushed, biting her lip like she always did.

He immediately touched her lip with his thumb, keeping her from biting her lip. "Surprisingly, I'm hungry too. I think I will stay for breakfast."

Her smile widened and she got up from bed, cheerfully going to the bathroom. She was half way to the bathroom when Sherlock sneaked up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her up in the air.

"Sherlock!" she protested as he held her in a princess-hold, grinning devilishly.

Molly laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, let him carry her to the bathroom. When they came to the bathroom, he kicked the half opened door and opened it fully. Molly giggled as he put her on the bathtub, also going in there himself.

"I remember you like your bath water warm?" he asked as he turned the tap on.

Molly nodded and pulled him down to herself for a passionate kiss. "I'm sure your body will be enough to warm the water anyway."

* * *

Molly was finally at work. She had been late for an hour because of the _long shower seance_  they had. God, she already missed him. It was like an addiction for her. As if being around him all the time was what kept her alive.

_Would you like to have dinner with me today? **SH**_

When she saw the text, her mouth opened wide with surprise. Sherlock Holmes wanted to take her out for dinner? Who was he and what did he do to the real Sherlock Holmes?

_I'd love to. **xM**_

_Good. I'll pick you up at eight. **SH**_

_Wear the red dress. **SH**_

Molly's brows knitted _. But I don't have a red dress? **xM**_

_I just sent it to you with one of Mycroft's men. **SH**_

_You'll recieve it in about two minutes. **SH**_

And she counted. She counted  _exactly_  one hundred and twenty seconds and there he was, one of Mycroft's men in an expensive suit, handing her a big bag. She thanked the man, watched him leave and looked around the morgue to see if anyone else was there. She made sure she was all alone and then opened the bag, seeing a beautifully wrapped gift package. She opened it carefully and saw a red dress inside. A smile formed on her lips as she got the dress out of the bag, examining it.

It was a mini dress with gold details on the edge of its skirt. She turned the dress around and saw that it had a low-cut décolleté on its back. The dress was beautiful, elegant. She could tell it was pretty expensive.

_This is a very beautiful dress Sherlock but I cannot accept it. **xM**_  She sent the message and kept looking at the dress. It was dazzling.

_It's already yours. And I have no one else to give that dress to, nor do I want to give it to someone else other than you. **SH**_

_Throw it away or wear it tonight and make me happy. Your choice. **SH**_

_Alright. Thank you. **xM**_

There was no reply to her last text but she knew he'd be in front of her flat door right on eight p.m. So she stopped what she was doing, already excited and locked the morgue, not even asking Mike for permission to leave early. He wouldn't say anything anyway. Plus, she had lots to do. But her first stop was going to be the hairdresser.


	5. Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and BBC.

It was supposed to be the evening of her life. Right?

_But_ , the minute both Sherlock and Molly stepped out of the taxi, everything turned into a disaster. Suddenly all the press was there. Reporters started asking them questions—some even dared to ask them if their sex was good—and the others kept taking pictures of them, flashes blinding Molly slightly. She was never center of attention before. She had no idea why she was  _now_. Then it hit her. She was with  _the Great_ Sherlock Holmes who people loved to hear news about. The worst part was, Sherlock was holding her hand to protect her from the reporters coming too close to her.  _Why on earth is he even holding my hand?_  Molly thought, feeling more and more uncomfortable every minute. Normally, him holding her hand would feel good but now it was just making things worse. When they finally reached the door of the restaurant, a male reporter managed to come up to her and whispered in her ear: "How does it feel like? Shagging the Great Sherlock Holmes, the Consulting Detective?"

She flinched at his words and looked at him with disgust. She could imagine the tabloids for tomorrow from now. She knew she made a big mistake to agree to his dinner date. But she didn't know they were coming to a very fancy restaurant up until  _now_. He didn't tell her where he was taking her in the taxi and told her it was a surprise. Sherlock Holmes didn't  _make_   _surprises_. There was more to this dinner date and she just figured that out.  _Stupid, Molly, stupid_ ,she thought as they finally got inside the restaurant _._

"What was  _that_  about?" Molly hissed at Sherlock once they were inside and let go of his hand immediately.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock answered her with a question which annoyed her more.

"Oh you know  _exactly_  what I'm talking about. You don't  _hold hands_ , Sherlock Holmes, and you most certainly don't  _make surprises_. So, what was that about?" She repeated her sentence once more, looking at the waiter approaching them with a deadly look. The waiter decided it wasn't a good time and left them alone. They were still standing in front of the front door and Molly was not going to move unless she got a proper answer from Sherlock.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd like it."

Molly narrowed her eyes. " _Like it_? Can you imagine what the newspapers will say tomorrow? I even heard one of the reporters say 'The Great Consulting Detective's New One-Night-Stand will be a good headline'! I am  _screwed_!"

"You're not a one-night-stand." He said and waved his hand to dismiss John's voice in his mind. – _You're an ass Sherlock. –Shut up John!_

Molly folded her arms on her chest. " _Really_? Then what I am Sherlock? Can you give an answer to that?"

Sherlock frowned. "What are you so angry about?"

Molly sighed, her shoulders dropping. "Sherlock, people will think I'm  _another Janine_  for you. Another toy you can play with. And sometimes, you  _really_  make me feel like  _I am one_."

Sherlock took a step towards her. "So you think that I'm  _using_  you?"

Molly opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her and continued talking. "You think I am being  _dishonest_?"

With one more step, he was inches away from her. "You think I'm  _playing_  with you? Is that what you think of me? A  _liar_?"

Molly's eyes teared up and she felt all her muscles tense. She had nothing to say. Because deep inside, that's what she actually thought of this…  _thing_  they had. Sometimes when she woke up after sex without him beside her, she would think he was done with her. Then he would come around again, eventually. After a while, this became a routine for them. He would come, they would have sex, chat for a while and he would be gone in the morning. These last few weeks though, had been different. He would stay for the whole night. He would be there in the morning, caressing her hair, having breakfast with her. He, without noticing it, became domestic around Molly.

He was disappointed in her. How could she think like that? After all that he has told her yesterday. Why did she not believe that she was important to him? Why was he supposed to repeat everytime he saw her that she mattered the most? That she counted? They've been over this a million times now.

"You're unbelievable." He snapped at her. "How many more times do I have to tell you  _I care about you_? That you're not some  _random_  girl in my life? I wonder if you'll believe me someday. You make me  _wonder_ , Molly Hooper. And I never  _wonder_. Ever."

Molly started crying at his words and he just stood there, watched her cry for a few minutes. Molly then dashed to the bathroom of the restaurant, leaving Sherlock behind.

He considered going back to Baker Street but he knew the press would still be outside and that would be a problem. Plus, if he left her there all alone, that'd be the last straw for her. He would lose her for sure and he didn't want that, whatsoever. So he called the waiter, told him to call a taxi to come. The restaurant had a backdoor and he wanted the taxi to come there, so the press wouldn't see them leaving.

Sherlock waited exactly where he was till Molly came back from the bathroom. They were not having a dinner date tonight. _Not tonight_.


	6. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. (also Mark Gatiss)

"I have a family, Sherlock, even if I don't talk to them often!" Molly yelled at him as soon as they were inside 221B. "I'll be all over the newspapers tomorrow, as your new one night stand!"

Sherlock closed the door to his flat behind him and returned to face Molly. He was getting more and more angry every second she talked, her shouting not bearable anymore. "Stop yelling at me Molly." He deadpanned, his eyes glowing with anger in the dark. He didn't turn on the lights of the room yet.

"I didn't know the press would be there. Stop blaming me." he stated as he removed his trench coat and threw it to the armchair. "I just wanted to have dinner with you and now you're accusing me of being a liar and a playboy. Do you hear your own nonsense, I wonder."

Molly folded her arms on her chest. "Then what am I to you, Sherlock?" she asked, her shoulders dropping a little. She was so tired of this thing going on between them. The more it was left unnamed, the more she felt lost.

"You never questioned it before." Sherlock muttered, turning his back so he was facing the window. They both fell silent for a few minutes before Sherlock started talking again. "I told you, you matter the most, Molly. You are the most important person in my life. What more do you want to hear?"

Molly went to John's armchair and sat down, taking her head in her hands. "Are we a  _couple_?"

Sherlock frowned. "I guess."

Molly looked up at him and shook her head. "You  _guess_? You never  _guess_  Sherlock. You  _deduce_. Now deduce it. Deduce  _us_. What are we? A couple? Fuckbodies? Friends? Friends with benefits? I can go on forever."

He sighed and sat in front of her, his own chair. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands together under his chin. He was in his mind palace, she knew that, but she still felt annoyed. It wasn't the right time for him to wander around his mind palace. They were in the middle of an arguement.

Molly stood up and shook him by the shoulders  _not_  so gently. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back. She narrowed her eyes and he, with a swift move, made her sit on his lap. She opened her mouth to say something but he kissed her neck, silencing her with the warmth of his lips. Molly knew she was already giving in to him but she also knew it wasn't the right thing to do. She wanted to protest, she wanted to push him away but couldn't find the strength in herself. She was tired from all the crying, the fighting, the stress and he was relaxing her.

"Sherlock." She sighed, trying to stop him by saying his name and knowing it wouldn't work.

"You're the woman I want to be with all the time." He whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her and making her shiver. His hands let go of her wrists and placed themselves on her hips, staying there for a while. "I like spending time with you. Not just in bed, but in general. I like working with you in the lab, I like talking to you." He then looked at her eyes, seeing how confused she was.

"But—"

"I am not finished, Molly." He gave her an annoyed look. "You are absolutely  _not_  a one night stand. A one night stand, as the phrase itself, is a person who you only spend one night with. You and I both know we've spent more than one night together. And the reason I came to your flat once in a while is because… I wanted to see you. Being bored was my excuse, Molly."

She never saw him like this before. He was sincere, he was finally showing his true feelings to her, he was opening up to her. If someone told her years ago that this day would come, she would laugh at their faces. But here she was, listening him  _confess_  to her. She lightly pinched her forearm, to see if she was dreaming all this. Yet, the pain the pinch caused her forearm told her it was pretty real.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Molly. But I am not…  _good_  with relationships." He finished talking and finally met her gaze, seeing the soft look in her eyes. She was finally relieved, he could see that. Because she finally got an answer from him. Everything was cleared and her mind wasn't foggy anymore.

Molly hugged him tightly. "Oh Sherlock…" she whispered and started crying again, not even trying to hold her tears back anymore.

"What? Have I said something wrong? Why are you crying? Stop crying. Molly?" Sherlock asked all these questions in a few seconds, achieving a weird look from Molly. Then she burst out a loud laughter. She was  _laughing_  at him, but she had been crying a moment ago. Sherlock shook his head, knowing he would never understand such complex human sentiments.

"No,  _silly_. I am crying because I'm  _happy_." She said and smiled at him sincerely, though tears were still falling down from her cheek.

Sherlock wiped her tears away with his thumb, holding her head in his hands. "Seeing you cry hurts me."

Molly sniffed and nodded. There was no reason to cry anymore. Even if she was happy, she wasn't supposed to cry. She became such a crybaby after meeting Sherlock years ago. Her platonic love towards him made her weak and vulnurable and that made her cry more than she normally would. But now she had him. He was hers and she was his. No reason left for crying.

She leaned in closer to him and kissed him fully on the lips, her hands slowly reaching his hair to caress his black curls. He immediately opened her mouth, slicking his tongue in it. Their tongues danced in a rhythm that they both loved and missed.

"Next time, I'll bring you to the lowest restaurant in town. Maybe then you will see that press is much better than food with hair in them." He told her as he pulled himself back from her. She narrowed her eyes and pulled him closer by his tie.

"Don't tease me, Holmes." Then she dragged him to the bedroom.


	7. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat&Mark Gatiss and BBC.

Once they were finally in the bedroom, snogging each other nonstop, Molly tugged on his necktie and loosened it a bit. She didn't intend to remove it, not yet. She liked playing with his clothing before having sex. It was her favourite part of their foreplay.

Sherlock, with his hands on her hips, slowly finding their way to her thighs, slammed her to the nearest wall in the bedroom. Her back gave a loud thud and she gasped, her eyes opening wide. The surprising thing was, he saw sparkles in her eyes when he did that. Her breathing fastened up, her lips gone dry.

So  _his Molly_  liked it  _rough_  after all.

Well, that was unexpected. And also new.

He grinned at her and held her legs tightly. Molly grinned back at him, knowing he just figured out one of her biggest fantasies about him. They never basically done it  _on the wall_  and she always imagined them on this position. And more. Okay, she had  _lots of_  fantasies about him and this was just one of them.

She wrapped her legs around him, holding his shoulders as he attacked her neck, sucking and biting all the spots he found. She knew she would have to wear a scarf tomorrow but she didn't care. The harder he bit her, the more she moaned and it was enough for him to know she was quite enjoying herself.

His hand slipped under the skirt of the dress and found her underwear, pulling it off of her legs. It was a little difficult to do considering the position they were in but he managed just well. His hunger was crystal clear and it excited Molly, more than it normally did. He slid a finger inside her slowly, then pulled it back immediately.

Molly's brows knitted. "I said  _don't tease me_ , Sherlock."

Sherlock grinned devilishly at her and slid two fingers inside her. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of her, listening to her moans as if she was singing him a beautiful song. But as he teased her, he got more aroused himself. He considered plugging himself to her right at that moment but then saw how she was just on the edge of her orgasm, so he continued with his fingers. She rocked her hips to his fingers, trying to feel more of him. Before she could even enjoy what was going on fully, her body betrayed her and she came, seeing stars in front of her eyes.

Molly frowned but Sherlock held her legs over his shoulders, locating them there safely and started sucking all her juice from her, not even letting her get herself back together after her first orgasm. Molly closed her eyes, smiling as he came up to face her, licking his lips seductively. She pulled him up to her level, kissing him as hard as she could. Having sex on the wall was really good but it had its disadvantages.

With one hand on his beautiful black curls, her other hand found his belt, unbuckling it easily. When she became an expert on taking his clothes off so easily, she had no idea.

She slipped her hand underneath his underpants and grabbed his hard cock, lightly caressing it with her fingertips.

His lips on hers became heated the second she touched his bare manhood, touching it so gently. She tightened her grip on his cock, teasing him on purpose. She pulled her hand up and down until she finally earned a loud moan from him.

Molly smiled as he pulled her away from the wall and carried her to the bed. He put her on to the bed not so gently and positioned himself right on top of her, his hard cock touching her tight entrance.

"Now you know how it feels to be  _teased_." Molly whispered at him, smiling smugly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. But without saying anything, he pushed himself inside her. He wasn't gentle when he pushed inside her, he wasn't gentle when he grabbed her hips and pulled her to him more, he wasn't gentle when he rocked her hips to his harshly. He just wasn't.  _Tonight_ , he was  _no_  gentleman. Tonight, he was an  _animal_  with needs.

Molly, however, enjoyed it so much more than she normally enjoyed their normal sex.  _At the age of 31, you figure out you like it rough_ , Molly thought and chuckled, seeing Sherlock chuckle with her. But neither said anything about it. Molly already knew that  _somehow_  Sherlock could always hear her thoughts.

He kept thrusting in and out of her, squeezing her boobs which he called small a few years ago. He dismissed the thought immediately. They were absolutely not small. He enjoyed them quite well. Especially those nipples… They were his weakness. He loved biting them and he knew it was a little bit of a twisted fantasy.

As he was thinking about it, he also took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it until he heard Molly scream his name. She was panting, rocking her hips to his while he held her strong. But she needed more and so did Sherlock. He started pushing his cock inside her harder and faster while his hands worked on her nipples.

Molly wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer for a kiss. They shared some sloppy kisses, their wet bodies crashing each other. Her hands reached up to his curls, tugging them lightly to encourage him to move harder into her. She knew she could never get enough of him but she could try.

After a few more powerful thrusts, he came into her as she came at the same time with him. They both stayed still for a few minutes, trying to control their breathing.

He kissed her forehead before excusing himself to the bathroom. Molly sighed with satisfaction, licking her lips to taste him once more. He will be the death of me, she thought and giggled, wrapping the sheets around herself. Without him, the room was pretty cold.

When he came back to the room, she was awake, grinning widely.

"Seems like you waited for me to come back to the bed." Sherlock said and got into the bed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I just wanted to kiss you before going to sleep." Molly whispered to his lips.

Sherlock grinned and kissed her slowly, tenderly as if it was his first time kissing her. Molly smiled as he kissed him back, feeling her eyelids becoming heavier. He kissed her one last time before putting his head on the crook of her neck, breathing her beautiful vanilla flavoured shampoo.

"I love you, Sherlock." She whispered before closing her eyes and letting herself fall asleep.

Though she could swear she heard him say "I love you too" before drifting away to a peaceful sleep.


	8. Unexpected Text

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat/Mark Gatiss.

It was seven a.m. when Molly woke up and saw Sherlock was still asleep. She smiled at him and gently got out of the bed, trying not to wake him up. He was never a guy to sleep so much but when he slept, he would take his time. Plus, she enjoyed watching his peaceful sleepy face. So she grabbed his shirt from the floor of the bedroom—grinning like a teenage girl—and wore it before heading to the kitchen. Drinking tea was a habit for her in the mornings.

She was searching for the tea in the cupboards when she heard the door of the living room open.

"Sherlock?"

It was John.  _Damn_ , Molly thought. She decided going back to the bedroom but before she could even move from her spot, John came through the kitchen door and his eyes widened when he saw her wearing nothing but Sherlock's shirt.

"I—I…" Molly started talking but stopped immediately. John was already aware that something was going on between her and Sherlock. And now she stood in front of him,  _half naked_. Nothing she could say would make this clearier then her current situation.

"Uhmm… Hi Molly." He said, feeling the awkwardness grow between the two of them.

"Would you like some tea?" Molly tried to smile a little bit as she took another cup from the cupboard for John.

"No—no thanks. I'll leave you two alone." He said and turned his attention to Sherlock, who was standing right behind Molly.

Molly winced when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her, startling her. John nodded at him and Sherlock did the same. It was a silent agreement between the two of them. John knew he needed some time alone with Molly and wouldn't bother Sherlock until he texted him. But nevertheless John gave him a look before leaving that meant  _You're going to tell me about everything later or I'll punch you in the face._

Molly sighed as she watched John leave and turned around to face Sherlock. He had a genuine smile on his face which Molly adored so much. She was also glad they finally made up. Being mad at him was a hard task for her.

"Good morning." She said and tiptoed to reach his lips. She pecked them and turned back around to pour some milk in her tea.

Sherlock smiled and kissed her neck, his arms still wrapped around her tiny waist. He never thought a day like this would come. He was  _caring_  for someone _deeply_  for the… second time in his life. Or maybe the first, he didn't know. He knew Molly longer than he knew John but he never figured out  _when_  he  _actually_ started caring for Molly. Of course, caring for John and Molly were completely different things. He loved Molly—which he never admitted neither to her or himself and John was a very dear friend. They were never in the same category in his mind palace and heart.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked, whispering in her ear.

Molly took a small sip from her cup before answering. "Going to work."

"After that?" Sherlock's lips were now on her pulse point, his one hand slowly unbuttoning his shirt that she was wearing.

Molly giggled and stopped his hand by putting her hand on his. "Sherlock, I need to be at work after an hour and I haven't even started getting ready." She told him, trying so hard to keep her voice from trembling. His hot breath on her neck was enough to wet her anyway.

Sherlock frowned. "Come here after you're finished at Bart's, then."

Molly turned around and put her hands on his cheeks, smiling widely. "I might. I might not. It depends on your behaviour towards me for the whole day. Treat me well enough and…" She kissed and whispered on his lips. "…and I will treat you well in  _bed_."

Sherlock grinned. "Is that a challange,  _Doctor Hooper_?"

"It certainly is,  _Mister Holmes_."

They shared a passionate kiss before Molly finally found the strength in herself to get away from Sherlock. She dashed to the bathroom, thinking a relaxing shower would be good before dealing with deadbodies in the morgue.

Sherlock smiled as he took a sip from Molly's cup. Though his smile faltered when his phone made a moan sound, a sound which he hadn't heard of for almost three years now. He narrowed his eyes and took his phone out of his pocket, staring at it for a few minutes before finally looking at the text he received.

_I'm alive._ _I'm in London. Let's have dinner._ _**xo IA** _

Sherlock stood up from the chair fiercely and started pacing around the flat, thinking of calling John for advice. But he would have to tell him the  _whole_  story. The story that was a secret from everyone. Sherlock Holmes had a secret with The Woman. His  _only_  secret with her.  _That night in Karachi_.

Sherlock tried to calm himself down, both angry at The Woman and himself. He knew she wouldn't stop until she got an answer from him and that meant she was going to be a big  _trouble_  for him. He needed to get rid of her,  _immediately_. He had Molly in his life now. He had no intention of ruining this.

_Happy Valentine's Day, Mister Holmes._ _**xo IA** _

_I'm free tonight. Let's have dinner._ _**xo IA** _

"You persistent woman!" he yelled and threw the phone to the wall, watching it fall down to the ground with a loud crashing noise. He picked up the phone when he heard the shower water turn off. He wasn't going to let his anger come to the surface. He was a cold-blooded man and he was going to act like he just got a case from Lestrade.

He saw Molly coming out of the bathroom.  _Act cool_ , he told himself once more before putting his coat on.

"Lestrade called me for a case, I am going to check it out. John's also coming." He knew he had to have John on his side. He couldn't risk Molly calling John about his whereabouts and find out he isn't actually on a case.

"Okay. Take care!" Molly called after him but only heard the door slam shut in return. Well, he wasn't going to be treated well in bed after all.

* * *

"I need your help." Sherlock and John were sitting in a cafe, far away from both Baker Street and St. Bart's.

John narrowed his eyes as he stared intensely at his friend. "What have you done  _this time_?"

"The Woman's in alive and is currently in London."

John's eyes opened wide, second time today. But when the words finally sank in, John let out a frustrated sigh and looked at his hands, thinking of whether it'd be okay to punch Sherlock or not. That was  _definitely_  a good idea but unfortunately not a solution. So he just let his anger pass and focused on the problem. "Don't tell me she wants to have dinner. Because  _that_  wouldn't be surprising."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. " _Of course_  she wants to have dinner, John. Well she also want other  _things_  but… We're not going to talk about them. I need your help because I am going to have dinner with her."

"Okay—wait  _what_?" Second time that day, John's eyes opened wide and it looked like his eyeballs were about to fall from their sacks.

"Not the kind of  _dinner_  she wants. I will have  _real dinner_  with her to talk her out my life. Once and for all."

"So you're saying she is not completely out of your life." John stated.

Sherlock hesitated before giving an answer to him. "We had sex in Karachi. That's all you need to know."

John tried so hard to keep himself from yelling at Sherlock. "You—what? Oh and now you want me to cover up for you, so you can go have dinner with  _Irene_ whereas  _Molly_  will be sitting in her flat, thinking of you. And it's damn Valentine's Day! Did I miss anything?"

"I told her I'm on a case. With you. You also know I have no information whatsoever of a day called  _Valentine's Day_ , so... Please, John. I need your help. Friends help each other, correct?"

"Oh, you also want me to lie to a friend of mine. Sorry I missed that part!" John hissed at him. Then he shook his head in frustration. " _Fine_. I will cover you up. But this conversation isn't over here." John said and left the cafe without saying another word. He was too angry to stay there for more and if possible, he didn't want to hear from Sherlock for a while.

"I know it isn't." Sherlock said to John's walking figure before he closed his eyes, going into his mind palace. He had to find a way to explain everything to Molly without breaking her. Sentiment was seriously  _not_  his area.


	9. The Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and BBC.

Two fucking days. It had been two fucking days since they went out of town for the case and she hadn't heard from him since then. He could have at least called her and told her where he was. But no. Of course, the great Sherlock Holmes wouldn't call a woman to tell his whereabouts. If Molly called him, he would pick up the phone and answer all her questions, she knew that. But she didn't want to be the one to call.

Then she felt guilty for thinking like this. He was on a case and that meant he was busy catching a killer. This was his job and his life. She had to respect him.

She sighed and focused on the deadbody she was opening up. She could think about all these later.

* * *

Sherlock decided not to try deduce the woman in front of him. He tried it lots of times a long time ago. He never succeeded solving this impeccable woman. She remained to be a true mystery, even after all these years. When he looked at her, all he could see was emptiness. This was what attracted him to her at the very first sight anyway. He wanted to solve her like a puzzle so bad that he went after her to save her in Karachi. She didn't deserve to live, no, but it was early for her to face death too.

When he saved her, they stared at each other for a moment before she crashed her lips to his. And without even noticing, they found themselves in a hotel room, touching each other, whispering dirty things. They both fought for dominance, both of them trying to be on top. In the end, it ended up equally. He never felt so good before. On the contrary to popular belief, Sherlock liked sex. And that night in Karachi was the best sex he ever had.  _Even_  four times in a row wasn't enough for them to get tired. They needed to feel more of each other. This was not attachment, no. This was  _lust_.

So when they met after all those years, the first thing he remembered was that night they shared. Appearently it was what Irene thought of first too because she smirked at him, pulling him closer by his tie and kissing him fiercely.

At first, it ignited something within him and he answered her by opening his mouth for her exploration. But then Molly's sweet little face popped up in his mind and he broke the kiss abruptly, erasing the beautiful red lipstick marks from his lips angrily. He was angry at himself more than Irene. He was defeated by his weakness and that weakness was the woman standing in front of him.

She narrowed her eyes as she kept staring at him intensely. She was aware of the fact that they were in a public area but she didn't care. Oh how much she missed those lips. She could kiss them all night long. And that's  _exactly_  what she wanted the most right now.

"Get out of my life." He snapped at her angrily, but couldn't hold himself back when she once more crashed her lips to his. She bit his lower lip and sucked it, enjoying every second of it. Sherlock— _absolutely_   _unwillingly_ —wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Thank God nobody in the restaurant looked at them. Anyone could kiss whenever they wanted, it was a fancy restaurant after all. Maybe the guy proposed to the woman, right? Nobody could know the truth lying behind it.

"I missed you." Irene whispered to his lips, deepening the kiss.

Sherlock's eyes flattered close. All he could feel was her hot lips on his, her tiny waist underneath his long arms.  _Caring is not an advantage_ , he heard his brother say to him in his mind but he didn't care. This was not  _caring_. This was passion. And at that moment, he had no courage to tell her to go the fuck away.

This was absolutely not going the way he planned it.

* * *

Molly was pacing in her flat, listening his cat Toby complaining with his annoying  _meows._  She knew John and Sherlock were together so she decided to give him a call. He could at least inform her about when they were going to come back. Molly missed Sherlock so much. She didn't know if he missed her too but that's what she hoped.

After three rings, John finally picked up. "Hi Molly."

John tried to keep his voice steady. He informed Lestrade beforehand in case Molly called him first. John knew Molly would eventually wonder about Sherlock's whereabouts and call either John or Lestrade. She wouldn't call Sherlock because she would think he was busy. John shivered, feeling guilty as hell.

"Hi, John. I know I'm disturbing by calling in the middle of a case but… I was wondering when you guys are gonna come back. It's been two days and… I miss him." She bit her lip when she said the last part. She still felt weird that John knew about their relationship.

John took a deep breath before answering her. "Yeah, well, we don't know for certain when we're going to come back. There was another murder in town so Sherlock is now investigating it too. Double homicide we suppose. So it got a bit busier than usual, you know." With each word he uttered, he felt more and more guilty.  _Shame on you, John Watson, for being such a good liar_ , his innerself yelled at him.

Molly frowned and looked at Toby who was trying to climb up to her leg. He did that when he got hungry and she noticed she didn't feed him for a few long hours now.

"Okay. Thank you John. Tell Sherlock I said hi." She said and hung up before waiting for an answer from John. Then she fed Toby and sat down on the couch, opening the TV. She needed to be distracted. The case was going to take long, it was obvious. She didn't like it. She knew she was acting immature right now but she loved him. It wasn't wrong to miss someone you love. Of course if she knew the truth…

* * *

John cursed under his breath when Sherlock didn't answer his phone. But John didn't give up and called him one last time.

"Oh, hello John."

When he heard  _her_  voice, he felt like something big got stuck in his throat. For a few minutes, he couldn't answer her. He felt his knees go weak and sat down on the armchair, hearing Mary putting the kettle on. She loved having a cup of tea before going to bed at night. Thank God she had no idea what was going on.

"Where's Sherlock?" was all he could say.

"What the hell are you doing?" he heard Sherlock say and then suddenly, Sherlock was the one talking on the other line. "John. Hi."

John gritted his teeth angrily. " _Hi_? Is that all you got to say?  _Hi_? Seriously Sherlock, you fucked up  _really bad_  this time, mate."

"What do you mean?"

" _What do I mean_?" John parroted Sherlock, his voice raising more and more every second. "You  _had dinner_  with  _The Woman_ , you dickhead! Did you not think of Molly? God, she's  _never_  going to forgive you."

"Don't be ridicilous John. I didn't  _have dinner_ with The Woman. Well, we kissed and made out a little bit but nothing more happened. I managed to stop myself at the last minute." He told him.

Though, John didn't believe a word he said. "Then why the hell did she answer your phone?"

"Because I was dressing up and she…" Sherlock's voice faltered when he noticed what he had just said. Sherlock was always a good liar but now he couldn't even keep up with a simple lie he just said a few minutes ago.

John stood up from the armchair, his hands curled up into fists. "When you come back, if you don't tell Molly the truth, I'm going to tell her myself and you will not be able to stop me Sherlock. She doesn't deserve this and  _you_  don't deserve  _her_." he hung up the phone and turned around to leave the living room when he saw Mary standing there, looking at him with wide eyes.  _Fuck_ , he thought and went past her, not wanting to give her an explanation right now.

* * *

Sherlock returned to Baker Street the day after he had that awful phone call with John. Sherlock Holmes never felt guilty once, never. But now, his chest was tightening and he felt a big weight on his shoulders.

He opened the door to his flat and found Molly sleeping on the couch. It was obvious she came here not long ago. She wore a tshirt of Sherlock's and she drank two cups of coffee. He had dark circles under her eyes that meant she hadn't had much sleep during the past three days.

He knew he was the reason for all of this. He couldn't make her happy. A guy like him could never make a woman like her happy anyway.

He closed his eyes when he remembered last night. He hated and enjoyed every second of it at the same time. He also hated himself for being such an idiot. It was a mistake to meet with her in the first place. He should have known that he would be drawn to her charms in the end.

He removed his coat silently, putting it on his armchair before making his way to Molly. He kneeled in front of her sleeping posture and caressed her cheek lightly. She mumbled something in her sleep that he couldn't understand. The sides of his lips turned upwards and he kissed her forehead. But suddenly he felt… _disgusted_. No, he wasn't disgusted by Molly. He was disgusted by  _himself._  Not long ago he kissed another woman and now he was kissing Molly. His guilty conscious kept talking to him while he kept caressing her cheek.

Molly's eyes snapped open and she panicked at first but then smiled when she saw it was Sherlock. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I missed you so much." She whispered to his ear and kissed his neck.

Sherlock gulped. He had no idea how to respond to that. Did he miss her?  _You had no time to miss her while snogging The Dominatrix, you arse!_  His friend John yelled at him in his mind and he dismissed him fiercely. His guilty conscious was enough as itself.

The way she acted, the way she kissed him were obvious signs that indicated her desire. She wanted to have sex with him. Obviously.

He stood up and watched her stand up with him.

"I am going to sleep a little bit. I am tired. Goodnight Molly." He said and kissed her forehead before going to the bedroom at full speed.

Molly was dumbfounded and had no idea why he was acting so strangely. Maybe he's just tired, her Pollyanna side spoke but secretly, she didn't believe it at all. There was something wrong with him and she was going to find out what.  _Soon_.


	10. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.
> 
> Credit: Every chapter from this one to the end are Beta'd by an awesome person; Bellarsam Chrisjulittle. That's her fanfiction.net name so... Anyways... Thanks a lot, again for Betaing my story.

John took a deep breath to stay calm when he saw Sherlock approaching him. They had decided to meet up and talk about  _a few things_  that John was  _craving_  to know more about. Sherlock had purposely left home early in the morning when Molly was still sleeping. He didn't want to wake her up because then she would start asking questions. It was obvious that she was suspicious of his weird behaviour. Molly wasn't a stupid woman and he knew he couldn't fool her. One way or another, they were going to have a chat. He couldn't escape his fate for too long.

Sherlock saw John and expected a punch in the face, but John only stood there taking rapid breaths. He could see that John was trying so hard not to punch him as hard as he could, and Sherlock appreciated that. They were going to sort this out like two gentlemen—

Nope. They were  _absolutely not_  going to sort it out like two gentlemen.

John punched Sherlock in the chest—because he didn't want to leave a huge purple mark on his face that Molly would notice and ask what the hell happened—and regretted nothing. Both knew Sherlock could easily stop him; he just didn't because he thought he deserved it. Sherlock felt like a piece of shit, so he just let John punch him.

"How could you, Sherlock?" John hissed at him, gaining a reaction from a few people on the street. He looked around and noticed people staring at them. Then he grabbed Sherlock by his arm and dragged him into an empty alley.

"How could you do this to Molly? How could you have sex with  _The Dominatrix,_ for God's sake?" This time, John didn't even try to control his voice. He was yelling at Sherlock with all his might.

Sherlock felt something boiling inside him. Then he named it:  _anger_. He felt bad and John was making it worse. Wasn't John supposed to be his best friend? He should've stood by his side instead of being such a dick. Sherlock most needed his friend right now. He needed advice. He needed his friend to tell him  _he could fix this_.

"Stop talking so loudly!" Sherlock snapped at John. "I didn't have sex with her, I told you that!"

John narrowed his eyes and took step towards him. "She answered your bloody phone and you were getting dressed, Sherlock. You cannot even lie properly!"

"And  _you_  cannot even  _deduce_  properly!" Sherlock deadpanned. "You came to only one conclusion by just one sentence I told you. I could have come with a hundred of conclusions!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Not everyone can be  _the great_  Sherlock Holmes!"

"Shut up!" Sherlock yelled at him and saw John's fist coming right at his face. He dodged to avoid his punch and jumped at him, knocking him down to the ground. They struggled with each other for a few minutes before they both gave up. They were panting and anger could be seen clearly on both of their faces. But they knew they were acting childish.

John suddenly felt guilty for acting like this to his best friend. No matter what he did wrong, John should have been by his side. Yes, Molly was a dear friend too, but Sherlock came first and he could have at least listened to his excuse for having sex with Irene Adler.

As if Sherlock heard his thoughts, he said, "I didn't have sex with her. Let's just go somewhere and we can talk about this thoroughly." Then he stood up and helped his friend stand up by holding out a hand.

Sherlock started walking to the street and John followed him.

"Where are we going?" he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed. "I need a drink."

* * *

When they finally got into a pub and Sherlock had ordered two beers, he started explaining what happened that night...

_*Flashback*_

_Irene opened the door of her hotel room. She got into the room and removed her jacket, throwing it on the bed. She glanced at Sherlock who was still standing at the door, obviously hesitatant about going into to the room._

_Irene smirked and dragged him into the room by his arm._

" _I really wonder whose life you ruined to pay the rent of this suite room," Sherlock murmured as he removed his coat too. He put it on the chair by the fireplace and sat on the chair, putting his fingertips under his chin._

_Irene opened a bottle of red wine and poured it into two glasses before sitting on the other chair that was right beside Sherlock's. She handed him one of the glasses and saw the hesitation in his eyes before he took it from her. "The man shouldn't have cheated on his wife if he loved her so much," was her only explanation about the matter, and that made everything clear to Sherlock. At first, Sherlock pitied the man a bit, but then he realized that he was doing the same thing as the man did. Sherlock was not married, but right now Molly thought he was on a case and trusted him. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach. He shouldn't be in this hotel room with The Woman. He shouldn't be anywhere near her at all._

" _So, tell me, Mr. Holmes. Any interesting cases lately?" Irene asked seductively. She loved listening him explaining his cases. It aroused her._

" _Yes."_

" _Would you mind telling me?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Are you being stubborn, Mr. Holmes?"_

" _No."_

_They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity to Irene. So she put her glass of wine on the coffee table in front of them and finally made a move on him. Sherlock held onto the glass in his hand as if his life depended on it. But Irene didn't notice it and attacked his lower lip, taking it in her mouth._

_Sherlock noticed he was holding his breath and when she bit his lower lip, all his sanity slipped away from him. He had been thinking so much about the situation and his mind palace started giving warning signals to him. The fight he was having with his inner self became a heavy weight on his shoulders and he felt sick. His hands started trembling, and he knew he was about to have a panic attack. Suddenly, his hold on the glass lightened and the glass fell on the ground, spilling the red wine onto his shirt on its way to the floor._

_Irene gasped and moved away from him, looking at his red wine stained shirt. He cursed under his breath and stood up from the chair fiercely. Without noticing what he was doing, he removed the shirt and went to the bathroom to clean it. Irene followed him to the bathroom and watched him trying to remove the stain angrily. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him._

_He stopped cleaning the shirt and shut off the tap before turning around to face her._

" _Whatever you think is going to happen—"_

_Before he could finish his sentence, Irene had crashed her lips on his once more. Her lips were passionate upon his, begging for entrance. Sherlock, for a few minutes, didn't open his mouth but then her gentle hands caressed his bare back and he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Her hand caressed his bare back up and down, their tongues dancing with each other. They tasted each other, noticing the faint flavour of the red wine they'd just had._

_Then suddenly, Sherlock's mind palace opened the door to Molly's room and he saw her there, staring at him with tears on her cheeks._ How could you do this to me? How could you? _she screamed at him before slamming the door shut in his face. Sherlock knew it wasn't real but if he kept kissing The Woman, it was going to become reality. He was scared. He didn't want to lose Molly._

_He abruptly broke the kiss, trying not to focus on Irene's hot red lips. He pushed her aside not so gently and grabbed his shirt before leaving the bathroom. He wore the wet shirt, not giving a damn whether it'd cause illness to him or not; the phone call from John that Irene answered while putting it on only made him feel worse. He just wanted to go home._

_So he took his coat and wore it on top of his wet shirt. Irene was following him everywhere like a little puppy, protesting to him going._

" _Please, stay!" she begged him and grabbed his arm tightly when he made his way to the door without uttering a word._

_But enough was enough._

_He let go of her hand on his arm and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her as hard as he could. "Just leave me alone. Get it? Leave me the fuck alone or I will kill you myself, woman!" he threatened her and watched her cry loudly as he stormed out of the hotel room. He still felt her lips on his and he hated himself. He wanted to vomit and remove this ugly desire in him. Then he cursed the day he started feeling sentiment. His life had been easier without these feelings._

_*End of flashback*_

...Sherlock took a big, shaky gulp from his beer when he finally finished telling the story and looked at his friend. John could see how devastated he was and how he regretted everything he had done. John felt bad for being suck a dick to him. Sherlock looked really tired and shaken from the things that had happened, and John had to be there for him.

"I'm sorry mate, I truly am," John said and gave a sad smile to his friend as he finished off his beer.

Sherlock sighed and took his head in his hands. "John, please, tell me what to do. Tell me how to get rid of this  _ugly_   _feeling_."

John patted Sherlock's shoulder. "Go talk to Molly. Explain everything to her like you just did to me. Yes, she will be angry and sad, but this is the only way you can get rid of your guilty conscious. Avoiding her is not the answer. You've got to be sincere to her and make her believe you love  _her_  and not  _anyone else_."

"What if she leaves me?" Sherlock groaned and took another sip from his beer. "God...When the hell did I become so… so…  _domestic_?"

John chuckled. "Women change us, and we don't even notice how they manage to do it."

"I guess you're right," said Sherlock. "I'll talk to her. Today."

John smiled at him and ordered another beer from the bartender. "I'll have to talk to Mary, too."

Sherlock frowned. "Why?"

"She, uh… She heard me talking to you on the phone."

Sherlock groaned and face-palmed. "Jesus, John! You've never been  _this_  stupid before!"

"I didn't know she'd be listening!"

They both shut up at the same time and glanced at each other before bursting out laughing. Their nerves had been a wreck for a few days now, and all they needed was to relax a little bit. Alcohol made them lightheaded and for the rest of the day, they didn't care about anything. But when Sherlock finally went home and faced Molly, he knew being lightheaded wasn't going to help him get through this.

She folded her arms on her chest and waited there for him to start talking.

"We need to talk," Sherlock stated before approaching her, his legs feeling dizzy because of the alcohol in his system.

"Are you  _drunk_?" she asked him, her brows knitted.

_Yes._  "No, no." he replied, and heard his innerself scream at him:  _You big idiot!_

God help him, he was absolutely screwed.


	11. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle. Thank you so much darlin' for everything! (:
> 
> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

They both settled onto the couch, and Sherlock held Molly's hand, giving it a light squeeze before speaking.

He chose his words as carefully as he could because he was aware he was lightheaded, maybe even drunk. "Do you remember The Dominatrix? Irene Adler?"

Molly narrowed her eyes and spoke slowly. "The woman you recognised from  _not her face_?"

"Yes. That's her."

"Basically, the woman you recognised from her vagina," Molly stated.

Sherlock's eyes opened wide to hear such words coming from his sweet Molly. She was obviously angry, but who could blame her? Years after that Christmas, Sherlock was opening up the subject of The Woman, and anyone could guess it wasn't a good sign.

He sighed. "Please, Molly. You are not making this easy for me."

"Why are we even talking about her?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. There had to be something about her, right? But Molly had done the autopsy and this dominatrix had quite dead when Molly had left her.

"She's...not dead," he said, as if he had heard her thoughts.

_There you go, Molly_ , she thought to herself, cursing under her breath.  _What you were afraid of became your reality_. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to control her mixed emotions. All of these feelings inside her were stirring up like boiling water, and she had no words to speak even though she wanted to say something.

Sherlock knew she wanted to say something but couldn't. So he kept talking. "I saved her life. Some terrorists captured her in Karachi and when I found out about it, I folllowed her there. Then I saved her life." He took a deep breath and watched Molly's changing facial expressions. She looked shocked at first, then sad, then shocked again. But there was this look in her eyes that made him realize  _she knew_  what was coming next. "We… spent the night together."

* * *

_**Molly's POV** _

_It's been years_ , I reminded myself.  _They spent the night together years ago_.  _It doesn't matter now._ We _are together, not_ them _. I was jealous of that beautiful woman long ago but now I have no reason to be… Right?_

I sighed and looked into his eyes. He was telling the truth, I could seet that. But I could also see the small beads of sweat on his forehead. He was not truly drunk, but he was not truly sober, either. Maybe that was the reason why he could speak so easily now. The normal Sherlock, in this situation, would have a hard time speaking his mind. In a way, I liked the fact that he was being sincere and opening up to me. On the other hand, I started feeling sick and I myself was sweating like him too.

I put my hands on my knees, trying to stop them from trembling so badly.  _Breathe in and out Molly_ , I thought to myself. Inhaling some air to my lungs, my foggy mind finally became clearer.

I cleared my throat before speaking again. "What happened in the past is in the past. Why are you telling me this  _now_?"  _Please God, please don't let him give me the answer I know I'm going to hear. Please tell me something other than 'She came to London, and we met,' Sherlock. Please, Sherlock, please don't tell me_ that _._

I looked into his eyes, waiting for his answer. I could see he was struggling for words, trying to choose the right words to say. Then he told me what I was yearning not to hear the most.

"She texted me three days ago, and we met."

I felt like the whole world just collapsed on me. I knew I was jumping to conclusions without hearing the rest of the story, but I didn't feel like hearing any more, to be honest. I felt dizzy, and now my whole body was trembling. I gulped loudly and looked at my shaky hands on my knees, trying to regain control of my own body. But the sick feeling I had in my stomach was just too much to bare. I knew if I didn't get myself together, I would vomit right onto the carpet any second.

Then Sherlock wiped a single tear that was falling down from my cheek with his thumb and leaned in closer. I stayed still because my body wouldn't let me get away from him. He kissed my lips ever so gently and I held my breath, trying not to focus on his beautiful lips.  _No. I have to hear the rest of his story_.

"Sherlock," I whispered against his lips, and he sighed as he moved away from me slightly. I took a deep breath and used the last drop of courage I had to ask  _the_ question. "I need to know the truth: What happened when you met her?"

_**Sherlock's POV** _

I couldn't think completely straight, but it was easier to talk now. The alcohol in my system was actually working for my benefit, which was quite odd. I saw her trembling so badly and knew she understood what was going on immediately. Though it was not what she thought. Well… at least not all of it.

I watched her turn pale and noticed the teardrop on her cheek. I had to do something. But my mind was foggy and all I could think of was her thin, lovely lips. Then I remembered a few nights ago when I kissed those lips so violently. That made me remember how she scratched my bare back with her nails, screaming my name over and over as she reached her climax.  _Sherlock! Focus!_  I scolded myself, but I kept staring at her lips and leaned in closer. When I kissed her she didn't kiss me back, and I knew  _this_  wasn't the answer. Sex was never the answer. She deserved to know the truth, and I needed to get rid of this guilt building up inside me more and more with every passing second.

Then she asked me what I feared she would ask: "I need to know the truth: What happened when you met her?"

I licked my lips and tried to keep my voice steady as I went on telling the story. "We, uh, we met in a restaurant and then she… she invited me to her suite room. I went there…" I couldn't continue because I saw her eyes widen and knew I should have said it in a more… accurate way. I was quite the idiot for a person who was claiming to be a genius. "I swear, Molly, I swear on… on  _anything_  you want,  _nothing_  happened! I don't even know why I went there. I just… I couldn't…"  _…resist her charms_  was what I was actually going to say, but I managed to shut myself up right on time. At least I couldn't mess this up even more; she was already starting to hate me.

That's when she burst into tears. She was crying vehemently, and I had no idea how to soothe her. So I,  _stupid me_ , kept talking. "Molly, please, stop crying! We only kissed!" This made her cry even harder, her whole body shaking crazily.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her head to my chest, but she pushed me away immedieately. It hurt me as badly as if she had punched me in the stomach. I was losing her, I knew I was. Physical pain was nothing compared to this and in that moment, I wished she would just punch me and get it over with instead of crying her lungs out.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of doing in that moment: I grabbed her shoulders and shook her none too gently. She, frightened by my action, looked up at me with wide eyes, tears falling down her cheeks. I looked into her teary eyes. "You're going to listen to me. Yes, she kissed me and yes I kissed her back but it was only for a second. Then I came to my senses, Molly. I immediately stopped kissing her and threatened her not to contact me again. She might be a charming woman, but she isn't the woman I'm in love with."

_**Third-Person POV** _

Molly's tears stopped and she blinked rapidly. She thought she'd heard him wrong. He couldn't possibly have said that, right? She knew Sherlock cared deeply for her, he'd even said that to her himself, but she never knew he was  _in love with her_. Was it really possible for Sherlock Holmes, the great genius  _who had no heart_ , to  _be in love_  with someone?

"You're… in love with me?" Molly asked him suspiciously. She knew she was being stupid. She'd heard everything he said: she'd heard him say he kissed The Woman back, and she'd absolutely heard him say she was a charming woman. But, just with one sentence he told her, she'd forgotten about all of rest of them.

Sherlock looked dumbfounded as he noticed what he'd said aloud. He'd finally admitted that he was in love with her out loud. And suddenly, it made him feel like that sentence just made things become more… real.

"Yes," he replied. He was still looking into her eyes, not once breaking his gaze.

Molly bit her lower lip lightly and nodded. "I… I need time," she said, and she stood up from the couch, making her way to the bedroom.

Sherlock followed her there and watched her as she quickly packed her purse. Sherlock wanted to stop her, say something to make her stay, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was wrong, he had made a mistake, and she was choosing to stay away from him for a while. He could understand  _that_ , of course. But he could not  _bear_  that. She had became an addiction for him, just like drugs, and now he couldn't let go of her. Watching her pack her purse and walk to the main door hurt him.

He followed her to the door, too. Molly turned around and faced him, still crying.

She opened her mouth to say something as Sherlock opened his mouth to protest to her leaving, but neither of them said anything. They both needed time, both needed to collect their thoughts. So, just like that, she left.

For the first time in his life, Sherlock felt  _heartbreak_. It wasn't easy for him. Actually, it was the most terrible feeling he had ever experienced.

Then he didn't hear from her for a month.


	12. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle. I appreciate your efforts so much and I cannot thank you enough, darlin'! (:
> 
> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

After a month's time, Sherlock was about to set a new record for cases solved within that time frame.

Right after Molly left, Lestrade called him in for a new case out of town, and he immediately accepted it. It was a case about a man who was found dead in his own bathtub. Apparently, the wife thought her husband was old enough to be killed. Then she—of course—got all his possessions that he left for her. It took Sherlock approximately 5 minutes to figure it all out.

Then he accepted another case, then another and another and another…

After some time, Lestrade was left with no cases and Sherlock was bored as hell. His eyes kept staring at the skull on top of the fireplace. He knew there were some drugs left in there, but he had promised Molly that he would never do drugs again.

_Yes, the same Molly who left you a month ago and vanished into thin air,_  his brain yelled at him. But then his other side yelled back:  _Yes, the same Molly who left you because you snogged Irene Adler in a hotel room!_

He tried every way to stop this internal argument: he solved cases, played the violin two days straight without getting tired of it, talked to John every day, even talked to Mary; but no, nothing kept his mind away from Molly. Yet, every time he picked up his phone to call her, he felt like he had no courage left to do it. She had said she needed time and he was giving it to her. So he kept calling John, saying the same lie all the time:  _I'm not feeling well, I might relapse and do drugs again_. Sherlock knew this would make John come every time he asked him to.

That's why John was in Baker Street once again, listening to Sherlock complaining about the lack of criminals outside. He kept saying he needed a case, and John kept saying there aren't any left because he'd solved them all. The conversation went on and on like that when finally John had had enough of his constant calls, constant complaints, constant screams of, "Get me some!" Enough was enough, and that's why he decided to call Molly. Sherlock was not in a good condition, and he hated seeing his friend like this. Sherlock was missing Molly, it was obvious. And John knew, wherever Molly was, she was probably missing Sherlock too.

So, without Sherlock seeing him—because he was now doing an experiment on a human toe for some reason— he went to his former bedroom in 221B and dialled Molly's number. She picked up after three rings.

"Hi, John." Her voice was sweet, unlike what John expected. He expected her to be angry, even cold towards him, but it seemed like Molly wasn't mad at him.

"Hi Molly. How are you?" he asked, still hesitating about the whole calling Molly thing. If Sherlock found out about it, he'd be very pissed.

"I'm fine, thanks. You?"

"I'm fine. I wanted to tell you that—"

Before John could finish his sentence, he heard his voice behind him. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock was pissed. John could tell by the look on his face and the way his hands were curled up into fists. Sherlock were throwing daggers from his eyes to John and he knew exactly who he was talking to.  _Now I'm in trouble_ , John thought. He was about to push the  _NO_  button when Sherlock snatched the phone from his hand and held it to his ear.

He took a deep breath before talking. "Molly, don't hang up," he pleaded through the phone.

Molly didn't give an answer immediately. But when she did, her voice was ice cold. "You made John call me?"

"No, I swear I didn't know he was going to call you! Molly, I want to talk to you."

Molly sighed through the phone. "Actually, I've been wanting to talk to you, too. Come to the address I'm going to send in a text."

"Alright," he said, and they both hung up at the same time. Then Sherlock turned around to face John who was about to say something and went past him to the living room. John knew Sherlock was mad at him but he had no other choice. Because John  _knew_ , after some time the violin and the books about science were not going to be enough for him. After some time, the cases were not going to suffice his needs. After some time he was  _absolutely_  going to seek comfort in drugs and relapse.

But Sherlock said nothing to him. John kept talking to him, asking questions about the situation, and Sherlock bluntly ignored him. He was getting ready to go to the address Molly sent him. The address belonged to a hotel which was out of town, and it'd take him approximately twenty minutes to get there. He didn't even question why she decided to stay at a hotel far away from Baker Street because the answer was as bright as the day.

So he exited Baker Street without uttering a single word to John and made his way to the hotel. "Drive as fast as you can," he ordered the taxi driver. He wanted to be there as soon as possible.

* * *

He took the stairs as he made his way to the third floor. When he was in front of her room door, he stood there for a few minutes. He had no idea what he was going to face. Had his Molly changed? Was she happy? Had she been crying? Did she find someone else?

Then he stopped thinking and knocked on the door. He knew he was going to have his answers in a few seconds.

She opened the door and he took in every detail just with a glance. She had purple circles under her eyes and some new wrinkles around her eyelids. Her hair was in a messy bun and she was wearing pyjamas with a cartoon character on it which he was not familiar with. She had also lost a few pounds and had been drinking wine every night before going to sleep. It was clear she had been neglecting work, too.

Basically, her condition was no different from Sherlock's: they were both a mess.

"I didn't think you'd come today," she said. She let him in, and immediately started tidying the place up. She had some underpants on the ground, a few vests on the bed, emptied wine bottles on the nightstand… She had no idea where to start tidying up. She wanted to get rid of the wine bottles first, but then she remembered his incredible skills of deduction. He'd probably figured everything out already.

Sherlock knew she was trying to hide away her stuff but found it unnecessary. So he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. She turned to him and saw that he was standing close to her.

"You needn't have stayed at a hotel. You could have just told me to stay away," he mumbled and stared at her lips. They were swollen from her constant biting.

"No, Sherlock.  _I_  needed to stay away. To clear my mind, you know. I needed some time away from home, from work, from…you."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I had done. My weakness caused you pain and I hate myself for that. There isn't a minute that I don't regret my actions. I'm really sorry, Molly," Sherlock whispered as he leaned in closer. He was now inches away from her lips.

Molly smiled at him. "I know. I forgive you." He smiled back at her and was about to kiss her when she stopped him and spoke again. "But know  _this_ : if you ever, _ever_  do something like that again, I won't be able to forgive you again. I'm giving  _us_  a second chance so  _please_  don't ruin it, Sherlock. I want this to work, more than anything."

Sherlock sighed against her lips with relief, knowing finally he was forgiven. At that moment, nothing else mattered to him. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her, feel the warmth of her body that he has been missing this whole time. So he just couldn't hold himself back anymore and gave her a chaste kiss. Then she hugged him. It had been a long time since they had hugged properly. She noticed how much she had missed his warmth, the scent of his cologne. She had almost forgotten what a big comfort it gave her to listen to his heartbeat. So she smiled against his chest and he kissed her head, putting his chin on top of it. They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity for both of them. Then Sherlock put his finger on her chin and made her look up at him.

She bit her lip, knowing that look oh so well. But he wasn't the only one looking that way.

"I missed you," Sherlock whispered against her lips.

She smiled knowingly and nodded as she took his hand and led them to the bed. "I know."


	13. Feels Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S.: This chapter contains a lot of SMUT so beware before reading.
> 
> Beta'd by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle.
> 
> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC.

They both had beautiful smiles on their faces when they got to the bed. Molly laid herself down, just like that, and waited for him to come to her. Sherlock hesitated a few seconds before finally giving in to his desire and settled himself on top of her. Molly's legs opened wide immediately, inviting him. She put her hands in his hair, caressing his curls slowly as she pulled him down for a slow, intense kiss. Their tongues immediately made contact and this time, neither tried to be dominant over the other one. They created their own rhythm and let their tongues play on their own.

Sherlock removed Molly's pyjama top and watched her unbutton his shirt with a quick hand. It made Sherlock smile to see how she had gotten accustomed to undressing him. He remembered the first time they had made love. She had been shy and too silent, which he didn't like at all, and very vulnurable. But now, she was brave, lustful and strong. She was no longer the fragile girl he'd met years ago at St. Bart's, and Sherlock was proud of how her character had developed during the time.

After a few minutes of undressing each other, they were finally naked. Sherlock looked at her body intensely and noticed it was just like he had left it. It was clear that nobody else touched her during the time they were seperated. Not that she would do such thing, but he still suspected a little because he was jealous of someone else touching her. The mere idea repelled him.

"You're staring," Molly said and flashed him a smile.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I am  _gazing_. There's a difference."

Molly cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sherlock nodded and pulled her into a tender kiss. They started kissing at a slow pace but then it turned into a hungry, impatient kiss for both of them. Sherlock, like always, made his way to her neck, kissing the area he knew she liked the most: her pulse point. Then he took her earlobe in his mouth and heard her moan his name. He smiled against her skin and sucked her pulse point, sucking so hard on purpose to leave his mark there. One of his hands made its way down her belly, going past her navel and finding her wet entrance. She was already so wet for him that it made him groan against her hot skin.

Molly's eyes fluttered close when his thumb touched her clit gently and felt his curls caressing her breast. She opened her eyes to see he was now licking her nipples, not biting like he normally would. Molly figured out that he was trying to be gentler than normal. She knew he thought he had broken her by almost-cheating on her, but she was over that now. He had kissed that woman in a moment of weakness, but it didn't matter anymore because in the end, he came back to  _her_.

"Stop thinking," Sherlock murmured as he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked it until he earned a loud moan from her. He could almost hear what she was thinking and it was annoying.

Molly bit her lip to keep herself from moaning louder and gasped when he sucked her other nipple, treating it the way he treated the other one.

She looked at him as he spread her legs wide. His curls were now tickling her thighs, and she giggled as a result. He smiled when he heard her giggle and licked her wetness, just a little to tease her. She put her hands on his hair, pulling on it slightly. This only encouraged him to do more, so he slicked his tongue in her, sucking her juice out of her. He loved how good she tasted. He kept suckling her until she was finally drained. Molly moaned and tugged on his hair when she felt him slid a finger inside her, not giving her a chance to recover herself even a little bit.

"Oh God…" The words left her mouth in a whisper. It felt so good that she started rocking her hips to his finger inside her. He saw how she was enjoying herself so he slid two more fingers inside her. He started thrusting them in and out of her, hearing her moan his name over and over. But he couldn't take it anymore. His cock was hot and dripping some of its cum on the bedsheets from the tip of it, getting harder and harder every second. He needed to be inside her. So he picked up his pace and pushed harder into her with his experienced fingers. When he twisted his fingers inside her and touched her clit, she came undone on his fingers with a loud cry.

She was still recovering from her recent orgasm when Sherlock pulled himself up and settled in between her legs. But when he remembered he didn't have a condom on, he froze. "Wait a minute," he said and got off from the bed, making his way to his wallet on the nightstand beside the entrance door with an absolutely inhuman speed. Molly huffed, missing his warmth almost immediately.

But he came back into the room quickly, his steps even longer and quicker than usual. His cock was throbbing so badly, his desire was making his head spin. Molly absently thought that there could be nothing faster than a man running to fetch a condom.

As soon as he slid the condom onto his hard cock, he settled himself on top of Molly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and caressed his curls like she always did. Then he slid inside her, slowly, carefully. Before he moved, he looked at her. He was inside her and she was looking into his eyes, giving him the permission he silently asked for. Then he started moving in and out of her slowly. He was afraid to break her—even though they had had sex before. And Molly was aware of this. But she didn't like him being so careful with her now, as if she were made of glass. She was a grown woman, after all, and to continue her relationship with Sherlock was her own decision. She always believed everybody deserved a second chance. And this was his— _their–_ second chance.

She pulled him down for a kiss, and they kept kissing as Sherlock kept thrusting in and out of her slowly. Even though this was not enough for him, even though he wanted to feel every inch of her, he was restraining himself.

"Sherlock…" she whispered against his lips. She let her own lips to find their way to his neck, kissing every spot she could find. Her lips trailed along his jawline and then his cheekbones.

He closed his eyes at the sensation her lips gave him. He slowed down his pace but started thrusting into her harder. Every thrust reached the depths of her, making her scream with pleasure. He was so deep into her that she could feel him everywhere. He was slowly losing his control, he could feel it, but there was nothing he could do. He had no power over his body anymore as he kept thrusting into her, listening to her screams like a song playing in the background.

When the last piece of control he had slipped away from him, he grabbed her hips fiercely and started rocking her as hard as he could. He was not slow anymore, and she loved him even more for not being that way. Her eyes rolled back into her head at that one particular thrust he gave her. She was so close to coming, and Sherlock knew it only too well.

He kissed her once again and watched her whisper his name over and over again. His name sounded like a prayer on her lovely lips.

After a few more powerful thrusts from him, her eyes snapped open and she let herself go. She shuddered under him and felt it really amplified when he found her G-Spot. Her orgasm hit her so hard that at that moment, she could swear she was seeing real stars in front of her eyes. She heard him groan and slow down, giving her G-Spot a few more thrusts before coming undone himself.

She felt more sensitive than she normally felt after having an orgasm. They both stayed still for a few minutes, gathering themselves together. Though he was still inside her and with her sensitivity, she could feel how big he was inside her. Then she noticed the pain on each sides of her hips. Her brows furrowed and she saw he was still holding her hips tightly, his hold starting to hurt more.

He saw where she was looking and noticed he was still holding her so he let go of her hips gently. "I'm sorry," he mumbled with an apologetic look on his face. But his apology wasn't just for bruising her legs. It was for everything he had done wrong in the past. And she knew it.

She kissed him on the lips. "It's okay," she whispered, and watched him pull himself out of her. She licked her lips at the sight of him leaving the room to go to the bathroom. She sighed with pleasure, feeling alive more than ever.

After a few minutes in the bathroom, he came to the room and lay beside her. She looked at him with a huge smile on her face. "I missed you, too," she said, referring to what he said when she first pulled him to the bed before their lovemaking.

He smiled back at her. "I know," he quoted her and kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his bare back, deepening the kiss. They kept kissing for what seemed like hours to both of them before he settled himself up on her again.

He made love to her three more times that night.

* * *

First thing in the morning, she packed her things and got into the cab with Sherlock to return back to Baker Street. They were both happy to be going back home. Then he remembered the first time he went to Molly's flat, how it became a habit until he kept going there everytime he got bored. Before saying it out loud to Molly a few months ago, he had never actually admitted to himself that he went to her flat because he wanted to see her. He never wanted to admit the fact that her flat made him feel at home. But now he wasn't afraid to admit those things both to himself and Molly. He wasn't afraid of… _feelings_  anymore. Sentiment was no longer an advantage found on the losing side.

He held her hand through their journey back to Baker Street. This was his way of saying, "I'm never going to leave you again," and Molly knew it very well. She trusted him with all her heart, and she knew he wouldn't waste this second chance they had.

When they reached Baker Street, the first thing they did was to eat some take-aways because last night wore them both out. But neither cared, because after finishing their meals, they couldn't resist the urge they were feeling and went to the bedroom to use the bed for anything other than sleeping.

It was finally peaceful.


	14. Mrs. Hudson is Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and BBC.
> 
> Beta'd by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle.

It was a bright, sunny Saturday and also the first time they ever went shopping together. They were both at the grocery store, arguing over what Sherlock didn't want to buy, because he basically didn't want to buy anything at all. He said they didn't need anything, that they could eat outside anytime. And Molly told him they couldn't do that every single day for every meal time. But he always replied with,  _We have money, we can do whatever we want_.

It was an arguement that neither would give up on, so they just both fell silent and Molly kept buying groceries without asking his opinion on it. If he was going to act like an arse, then Molly would buy and cook whatever the hell she wanted.

Molly was still angry at him even outside the store, but then Sherlock held her hand, combining their fingers and all was forgotten. A huge smile appeared on her face and she bit her lower lip, seeing from the corner of her eye that Sherlock had a huge smile plastered on his face too.

They reached home hand in hand, and Sherlock didn't let go of her hand even when he was unlocking the door. He just used his other hand and kept holding Molly's hand the entire time, as if she would disappear if he let her go.

"Oh!" Molly gasped suddenly.

Sherlock's brow arched. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot to buy some milk. You go inside, I'll be back in five minutes." She pecked him on the cheek and went back to the store.

Sherlock shook his head and rolled his eyes as he went inside. He placed the groceries on top of the kitchen counter and headed back to the living room, placing his coat on the armchair. He sighed, thinking of checking his emails in case an important case was sent to his inbox. It had been awhile since he'd last solved a significant case for his own satisfaction.

"Seeing you so  _domestic_ brings tears to my eyes, brother dear."

Sherlock hissed and turned around to see his brother standing there, swinging his umbrella like he did all the time. The smug look on his face, the coldness in his eyes, the cool posture of his that never changed.

"What do you want,  _Mikey_?" Sherlock asked and planted a fake smile on his face. He knew how much Mycroft hated being called  _Mikey_ and he knew by calling him that, he annoyed him enough.

Sure enough, Mycroft's lips turned into a thin line and his brows furrowed. So he just went straight to the point: "Mrs. Hudson is missing."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Hudson's missing?" Sherlock asked Mycroft, who was standing there with a cold expression on his face, as if there was nothing wrong at all with Mrs. Hudson being missing.

But when he got no reply from his brother, he got pissed so he repeated his question, yelling: "What do you mean Mrs. Hudson is missing?"

He rolled his eyes before answering him almost indifferently: "Calm down, Sherlock. My men are doing their best to find her."

That's when Sherlock couldn't control his anger anymore and jumped right on Mycroft, pulling him from his collar up to the air. Sherlock pushed him to the wall behind him and cursed at him under his breath.

" _Sherlock_!"

Molly was holding a grocery bag in her hand when she entered the flat and saw Sherlock looking like he was about to kill his own brother. She dropped the bag to the floor and ran to Sherlock, calling his name loudly. But she knew she should never step in between the two brothers when they were throwing daggers at each other with their eyes.

"God's sake, Sherlock, let go of your brother!" Molly yelled at him when she saw Sherlock wasn't even paying attention to her presence. She pulled him by the sleeve of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his waist, stopping him. She was now standing in the middle of the two brothers, her face resting on Sherlock's chest. She could hear how loud and rapid his heartbeat was and knew this wasn't a good sign.

Sherlock finally let go of his brother. Mycroft fixed his tie and cleared his throat, still looking at his brother angrily. "I promise, we will find her as soon as possible. Plus, it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet, so she isn't technically considered missing. Maybe she just went outside and forgot the way home," Mycroft said and shrugged.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes but before he could say something, Molly jumped into the conversation. "She is not having amnesia, Mycroft; she's not that old or at all stupid, despite what you think. If you think you're the smarter brother, then act like it and deduce properly," Molly deadpanned him.

Mycroft rolled his eyes in return as an answer to Molly. "I put my best men to this job because I know how important she is to Sherlock. So, no worries. We will find her."

"No. You will not," Sherlock said and huffed. " _I_  will." Then he showed him the door with his point finger, indicating obviously that he was not welcomed there anymore.

Mycroft looked at his brother for a few more seconds. "Then  _I_  will hep  _you_  find her," he said and he left the room and 221B immediately.

When Molly heard the main door close, she unwrapped her arms from Sherlock's waist and stared at him. "You will find her, Sherlock. You always do. And you heard Mycroft, he's going to help too." She assured him.

"I hate the way he acts towards Mrs. Hudson. He should respect her more and once I'm finished with finding Mrs. Hudson, I will remind that to him in a not-very gentle way." Sherlock hissed.

Molly gave him a sad smile and caressed his cheek with her forehand. "Sherlock... He is acting like this because he doesn't want  _sentiment_  to get in to his way. But we all know,  _deep deep down inside_ , he loves her just as much as we all do."

Sherlock sighed and nodded curtly. Then he went to Mrs. Hudson's flat to find more evidence, leaving Molly behind without uttering another word. He was angry but he had no time to deal with his anger. Finding Mrs. Hudson was his priority now.

Molly then decided it was better to leave him alone so he could work more efficiently. But she knew he would find Mrs. Hudson this way or that way because even though he never admitted it out loud, she was like a mother to him. He treasured her without making it known.

Molly sat on the couch for about five minutes and sighed, holding her tears back. Deep down inside, Molly wished Mrs. Hudson was  _indeed_  having an amnesia and wasn't kidnapped—or rather dead. Molly just couldn't handle that, and she knew that Sherlock wouldn't be able to, either. That's why she decided she couldn't just sit there and let Sherlock do all the work. So she went downstairs and started helping him search for more evidence. They were going to find Mrs. Hudson together.

 


	15. Epilogue: Their Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the epilogue of this story, folks. A sixteen-chaptered-journey ends right here. *sigh* As much as it saddens me to end this story, it really is for the best. Sherlock and Molly got together in the end no matter what obstacles they've faced all along the way and now I present you the last stop of this journey: Their Happy Ending.
> 
> Enjoy the last chapter! (':
> 
> A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and BBC.
> 
> A/N: This story has been beta'd by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle since the eleventh chapter and I gotta say, she really is a great person. She has been patient with me, counsulting me every now and then, fixing my mistakes and etc. So, yeah. Dearie, thank you so much for everything so far and I am glad you offered to be my beta because that really meant a lot. I appreciate all your helps. Thank you so much for everything! Til next time... xo

Sherlock and Molly had been searching Mrs. Hudson's flat for half an hour now, and Molly could see Sherlock getting more and more angry every second. Normally, it would take Sherlock only five minutes to see all of the evidence, but today he basically couldn't see anything. He knew the evidence was right in front of his eyes but he just couldn't get himself to focus right. His emotions, his worries about Mrs. Hudson, were getting in his way. And at that moment, he remembered why he hated sentiment. It would always hurt him and his beloved ones in the end.

Molly saw him swearing under his breath while pacing, and she slowly moved closer to him, trying not to startle him. "Sherlock?" She touched his shoulder lightly and waited for a response but got nothing from him. He just stood there, not pacing anymore. His breathing slowed down from being so rapid, and Molly could see his features were becoming softer.

With sadness in his eyes, he turned around to face her. Molly caressed his cheek with her hand and gave him a small smile. The last thing she wanted was for Sherlock to panic and lose control. He started thinking about the whole  _"sentiment is found on the losing side"_  thing, and it was only hurting him more. He always hid his true feelings, but he cared for Mrs. Hudson deeply. And now he stood in the middle of her flat, trying to find the missing pieces of this new puzzle. But there was nothing whatsoever that indicated Mrs. Hudson's being missing.

When he finally looked around the flat, he saw a  _big mess_. A big mess  _he_  created. All her clothes were thrown to the floor, all her drawers were open wide...yet, there was still  _nothing_. Sherlock huffed and took Molly's hand in his angrily. "Stop," he ordered her. Her caresses were fogging his mind, and the last thing he needed was  _distraction_. "Molly, why don't you go upstairs and wait for me to return?" he demanded more gently. He tried to sound as calm as he could, but it still sounded like he snapped at her.

Molly's eyebrows furrowed. "But I want to help you search the flat."

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "But you're  _not_ helping staying here."

Molly tugged her hand out of his angrily. "You think I'm a distraction, don't you?"

"I don't  _think_  you're a distraction,  _I know_  you are a distraction." He narrowed his eyes at her. A few hours ago, he saw her as a loving, beautiful woman in his life. Right now, all he saw was a whiny, persistent woman with unreasonable stubbornness.

"You're doing it again," Molly deadpanned, trying to hold her tears back. "That  _sentiment is a weakness_  crap. You're doing it again, and you don't even care if it hurts me or not." She stormed out of the room at full speed. She went upstairs and packed her purse, deciding to go for a walk. Maybe she would call Mycroft and search for Mrs. Hudson with him instead of Sherlock. But that'd be like betraying Sherlock, so she dismissed the thought immediately.

She got out of 221B fiercely, shutting the door behind her as hard as she could. It was cold outside, so she put her scarf around her neck and folded her arms across her chest. How everything had come to this she had no idea. Just this morning they were shopping together happily. But now, one of the most important people in their lives was missing, and Sherlock couldn't focus on anything. Plus, he blamed  _Molly_  for that last part.

Molly sighed as she decided to go for a walk, but then she noticed Speedy's Shop on her right side. She knew if she didn't look inside the place, she would feel guilty later for not doing so now. But the door was locked when she tried it, and it wasn't a good time to call for a locksmith. She sighed and turned around to face no one other than the elder Holmes brother.

"Miss Hooper," he greeted her. He was just like his younger brother: always sneaking up on other people, catching them off guard.

Molly rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Mycroft?"

He huffed. "Just wanted to inform you that Mrs. Hudson is  _not_  missing at all."

Molly's eyes opened wide, and she opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Then she took a deep breath and tried again. " _What_?" was the only thing she managed to get out of her trembling mouth.

Just then, a long black car pulled over and Mycroft showed the car with his hand, gesturing her to it. "Please, Miss Hooper. I suppose we should discuss this in private."

Molly gave him a long stare before getting into the car. Mycroft sat right beside her and sighed before starting to explain the whole thing to her.

"Mrs. Hudson isn't missing. She never has been. She just... came up with the  _stupidest_  idea on earth."

Molly arched a brow at him. "What  _idea_?"

" _To celebrate Sherlock's birthday_." He uttered every word of the sentence as if it was something disturbing to say. Mycroft Holmes appearently hated birthdays. "Mrs. Hudson contacted me a few days ago to talk to me about Sherlock's upcoming birthday. We met at Speedy's Shop, and she told me that she wanted to celebrate Sherlock's birthday this year. I rejected it immediately, of course. But then she was so sad and she told me I was her only chance so..."

"You couldn't break her heart," Molly said as she smiled widely. She finally understood why Mycroft acted so...unconcerned about this whole  _Mrs. Hudson being missing_  deal. He was calm and reckless because she wasn't missing or kidnapped at all.

Mycroft Holmes only snorted in return. "She's an old lady. Declining her wishes wouldn't suit a gentleman."

"In this case, that  _gentleman_  is  _you,_  I assume," Molly teased, and her smile grew wider. She felt happy, and the only reason to that was because Mrs. Hudson was not missing or kidnapped or having any amnesia at all.

Mycroft Holmes gave her a fake smile, not making his frustration show, before contiuning. "She is currently staying with John and Mary Watson."

Molly's forehead creased. "But... how is this going to get Sherlock to go to the party?"

That's when, for the first time that day, Mycroft Holmes' face formed a small, genuine smile. "Martha Hudson is actually a very smart woman. A remarkable one indeed. She told me she was going to do this  _Sherlock's way_. She told me she was going to turn this into a case. John and Mary Watson gave her the idea of using Mary's old house, the one she stayed in before marrying Dr. Watson. However, she didn't know how to plant any evidence to lead Sherlock straight to Mary Watson's previous house."

"That was where you went in," Molly deduced the obvious.

Mycroft Holmes nodded. "Indeed. So now I want you to go in there and make sure Sherlock finds this piece of paper in Mrs. Hudson's flat." Mycroft handed Molly a note with an address written on it. It was obviously Mary's home address, and because neither Sherlock nor Molly had ever been there before, he wouldn't know what the address stood for and want to search it.

"How am I going to make him find this?" Molly asked.

"You can act like you found it in Mrs. Hudson's flat and give it to Sherlock. He will obviously wonder what the address is for and he will want to check it out. But remember: you have to stall him off for one more day. His birthday is tomorrow and Mrs. Hudson decided that the party will be exactly at eight p.m."

Molly smirked and clapped her hands like a child, feeling that she had never been happier before. Sherlock was going to have a big party for his birthday, and people who cared for him were planning it. It was going to be hard stalling him off for one more day, but she knew she could manage that just fine.

"Alright," she said, and was about to get out of the car when she remembered something. Molly turned around and pecked Mycroft on the check. "You're actually a really good man, Mycroft. Thank you for doing this," she said happily and got out of the car, leaving a dumbfounded Mycroft behind. No one had ever said something like that to him. He was known as  _the iceman_ , thanks to Irene Adler, and he always believed her to actually be a goldfish. Yet, it seemed like there were actually people who cared for him too, after all.

With a genuine smile on his face, he waved at the driver to start the engine. They were going to the mall to buy Sherlock a present for his birthday.

* * *

Molly entered the flat silently and saw Sherlock playing his violin by the window, his fingers performing a sad melody. Now that she knew the whole truth about Mrs. Hudson being missing, it was going to be hard to keep it from him. He looked sad, and it broke Molly's heart. If only he knew the truth...

She silently creeped up behind him but she knew he heard her come. His fingers stopped playing the sad melody when she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him. He sighed and put the violin on the table beside the window. He then turned around and faced her. She still held her arms around his waist, not letting him go. She stared at him for a few seconds before putting her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. It was the most soothing thing ever for her.

A few minutes passed in silence, the only sound being the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, and then finally Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. He put his chin on top of her head, smelling the faint smell of lavender shampoo she had used earlier this morning. Her heart was racing fast, but then again it could be his too, so he didn't give much thought to it.

Moments passed where they only held each other tight. Molly finally looked up at Sherlock and saw the sadness in his eyes. It pained her to see him like this, but tomorrow everything was going to get better. So she clenched her mouth shut to not to let anything slip away.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier today," he whispered to her as he leaned his head closer to hers. Their foreheads touched, and she gave him a small smile.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered back and tiptoed to put a peck on his beautiful lips. That's when an idea popped up in Molly's head.

Sherlock was about to kiss her back when she pulled back from him slightly. "Why don't we... uhmm..." she started off and bit her lower lip on purpose, knowing he would notice it. Then she put her hands on his neck, caressing it with her fingertips lightly. She noticed how his eyes watched every single move she performed. Her voice was a low whisper when she kept talking: "...take a nice, warm bath and relax? Maybe then..." She stopped midsentence again and tugged the collar of his shirt with her little hands, pulling his body to hers slowly. "...Then you can think clearer and solve this case easily." When she finally finished her sentence, she put both of her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down to her for a passionate kiss.

Sherlock was overwhelmed by the way Molly seduced him and felt all his stress going already. He let her drag him to the bathroom; they never once broke the kiss on their way there. When they finally reached the bathroom, Molly closed the door behind them slowly and started unbuttoning his shirt. They then both stripped each other naked, taking their time, seizing the moment.

Sherlock turned on the tap and waited until the water was warm enough for both of them. They both got into the bathtub, and Sherlock settled Molly on his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. Molly smiled at him and planted a small kiss on his neck, caressing his right arm up and down. The sensation it gave him made him smile and he captured her lips, ravishing them with his own. The kiss was slow, sloppy and full of unspoken emotions they both shared for each other. He nipped her lower lip and bit it lightly, earning a soft moan from Molly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his thick black curls delightfully.

Minutes passed where their tongues danced, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Sherlock finally couldn't take it anymore and settled her on his lap, where her legs were wrapped around his waist, his erected cock touching her pelvis. She grinned at how hard he was for her and slowly pushed her hips against his, hearing him growl her name.

But before she could continue, Sherlock grabbed her hips and stopped her. "Molly..." he began, but Molly cut him off. She knew he was going to say something like _I need to find more evidence, we don't have time for this_ , but she wasn't going to let him say that. She had to distract him until tomorrow.

"Sherlock." She put her hands on his cheeks and stared him right in the eye. "You are tired, you are stressed, and you cannot keep going on like this. If you want to find Mrs. Hudson and the evidence you say that you can't see, then you have to empty your mind. You need to  _relax_."

Sherlock sighed and nodded a few seconds later. He knew she was right. He had to relax and sex was always a good way to get rid of stress. If he could relax and empty his mind, then he could get back to his job with a clearer point of view. He had to consider Mrs. Hudson as another victim who went missing and himself as the client. It was hard, but not impossible.

Then he finally gave up thinking and gave himself to Molly and her marvelous body.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock woke up to see that Molly was not beside him. But the curtains were wide open, and he could hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen. Sherlock looked at the clock to see it was two p.m. in the afternoon and literally jumped from the bed and put on his formal clothes, feeling ready to finally thoroughly investigate this case. He was energic but also angry because he woke up so late. He wondered why Molly didn't wake him up, but then he thought she probably did it so he could relax more.

When he went to the kitchen, he saw that the table was ready, and Molly was wearing nothing but his shirt. He smiled at the scene in front of him and coughed, making his presence known.

Molly turned around and saw him standing there with a big smile on his face. "Good morning," she said and pecked his lips on her tiptoes. "I made omelettes and coffee, black and two sugars."

He smiled at her, and they both started eating their breakfast silently. When they were both finished eating, he excused himself and went back down to Mrs. Hudson's flat, searching for evidence. Molly smiled to herself, knowing it was a matter of time before he found the piece of paper with Mary Watson's former address on it. She had put it under the carpet, a place Sherlock would eventually look. She took a sip of her coffee and started watching TV.

Five minutes later, she finally heard Sherlock's voice from downstairs.

"I've found it, Molly!"

He came running upstairs. He was holding the paper in his hand, waving it to her so she could see what he found.

Molly acted surprised and took the paper from him. "But, what is this?"

"This is obviously an address and I'm going to go there now," he said and made to get his coat, but Molly grabbed his arm tightly.

"Sherlock, wait!" She tried to come up with a plan to stop him from going there now. "You can't go there now!"

Sherlock's brows furrowed and he tilted his head. "May I ask  _why_  exactly?"

"Because...Because if you go now, in the middle of the day, the kidnappers might see you. We should go there in the evening, when it's dark enough outside." She stood there, thinking she had failed, that she had failed to persuade him and now he was going to figure out everything.  _I'm screwed_ , she thought to herself but kept her cool posture.

Sherlock looked at her for a few seconds and then huffed. "We don't even know if she is kidnapped or not, Molly. This is just a piece of paper with an address on it. Kidnappers wouldn't just leave random addresses flying around the place, now, would they?"

Molly sighed. "I suppose not. But, what does the address stand for, then?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know. But you're right about one thing. If she is indeed kidnapped, the daylight wouldn't be an advantage to us. Going there after dark might be a better idea."

Molly sighed and watched Sherlock going back to Mrs. Hudson's flat, to find more evidence about the address. She immediately texted Mycroft.

_Next time, you're going to be the one to distract him._ _**xM** _

_Did something go wrong, Miss Hooper? –_ _**MH** _

_No, thank God. But it almost did. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to fool a man like Sherlock?_ _**xM** _

_No, Miss Hooper. Because I always succeeded in fooling him_ _**. -MH** _

_We'll be at Mrs. Watson's apartment at eight p.m. Don't be late or early._ _**–MH** _

_You arrogant, cocky bastard_ , Molly thought and went downstairs to act like she was helping Sherlock out. She never felt the time go so slowly before.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing around the flat, looking out the window to see if it was dark enough now. Molly looked at the clock and saw that it was six o'clock. She couldn't keep him at home any longer, she knew that. Soon, the sunlight was going to leave itself to darkness, and Molly had no more tricks to come up with. No more lovemaking sessions would work. She'd even considered putting sedatives in his tea, but then they'd be late when he finally woke up. She couldn't risk it either.

They waited for half an hour more when Sherlock finally couldn't take it anymore. "We're leaving," he said and called for a cab.

Molly texted Mycroft without Sherlock seeing her.

_We're going to be early. Get yourselves ready._ _**xM** _

_You couldn't distract him for an hour more? I had high hopes of you Miss Hooper. Turns out I was wrong._ _**–MH** _

_Know that when I get there, the first thing I'll do is to kick your ass, Mycroft._ _**xM** _

She of course didn't get a reply to that. Sherlock told the driver to be as fast as he could and handed him the address. No words were spoken on their way to the building, and Molly was really nervous.

When they finally reached the apartment, Sherlock gave the driver more than what it cost and told him to keep the change. He ran to the building, picking the lock easily. Molly was right behind him when they entered the flat written on the address. He picked its lock too and got into the flat with small steps, Molly following him behind.

The flat was pitch dark and it was really,  _really_  silent that for a moment Molly thought no one was there to surprise Sherlock at all.

But then suddenly all the lights were on and everyone screamed " _Happy Birthday, Sherlock!_ " at the same time. The first thing Sherlock saw was Mrs. Hudson standing there with a small—probably homemade—birthday cake and the biggest smile on her face. His eyebrows furrowed, not following anything. Even Mycroft was there, standing beside John. On John's other side was Mary, and beside her was Lestrade. Anderson and Donovan were behind Lestrade, and beside them stood Mike Stamford.

He looked beside him to see Molly smiling at him, clapping her hands along with the others. He was more bewildered than he had ever been in his entire life.

Sherlock held his hands in the air, stopping everyone abruptly. " _What the hell_  is going on here?"

Everyone fell silent for a moment but then Mrs. Hudson stepped forward, still holding the cake. "Today's your birthday, sweetie."

"I'm aware of  _that_  Mrs. Hudson. I'm also aware of the fact that you were supposed to have been  _missing_ ," Sherlock snapped at her.

"Aren't you happy she is not missing, Sherlock?" John stepped forward.

"What nonsense is all these?" Sherlock yelled.

That's when Mycroft finally stepped in and told him about the whole thing that Mrs. Hudson had planned. He didn't skip one detail, explaining everything to him. After a few minutes of Mycroft's words sinking in, Sherlock finally looked around himself to see the house was decorated brilliantly. Also, the cake Mrs. Hudson made looked delicious.

"Remarkable plan, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said and bowed his head a little, no longer feeling angry at the woman in question. He'd always thought she was a smart person who didn't show it much, but this plan was the biggest proof to see she was indeed a smart person.

Mary put a few candles on top of the cake and placed it on the table, dragging Sherlock by the arm to stand in front of the cake. "You have to make a wish before blowing out all the candles," Mary told him.

Everyone surrounded the table, watching him with curious eyes as he unwillingly blew out all the candles. He rolled his eyes as everyone hugged him one by one, wishing him many happy returns. He'd always hated birthdays, but this one wasn't really  _that_  bad. He was now hugged by Mrs. Hudson, who whispered to him: "You are loved, Sherlock. Do not ever forget that."

That made him smile as he whispered back at the woman he saw as another mother but never admitted it. "I am so glad you are not missing, Martha. The world would collapse without your presense."

They both shared a smile before Molly came to hug him. "You were distracting me the whole time yesterday," he stated.

Molly bit her lower lip. "Yes. But I think I did quite a good job at it." She grinned at him as he pulled her for a hug.

"I love you, Sherlock," she whispered into the crook of his neck, her breath tickling him a little.

"I love you too, Molly Hooper," he whispered back. Molly, with wide eyes, looked up at him and saw him looking at her with a genuine smile on his face. His eyes were bright, and she could see how happy he finally was.

That's when Lestrade spoke. "We have to take a picture!" he yelled and wanted everyone to come to the middle of the room. Lestrade put the camera on top of the farthest bookshelf, timing it to take a picture automatically after a minute. John and Mary were on the right side of Sherlock, and on his left side stood Molly and Mrs. Hudson. In front them were Donovan, Anderson, Mike Stamford and Lestrade. Mycroft didn't want to be in the picture but Molly dragged him by the arm and made him stand right beside her.

"Say cheese!" Lestrade said and then the camera clicked, letting them know the picture was taken. They all looked at the photo and everyone started complaining about how ugly, fat and ridiculous they looked, but none of them offered to delete the picture.

Everyone started chatting as Sherlock dragged Molly to a silent corner. Everyone was busy arranging their gifts to give to Sherlock, so Sherlock took the oppurtunity to have a moment with Molly.

"So, where is my present?" he asked her, cocking an eyebrow.

Molly pouted. "I am sorry. I didn't have any time to buy you something." But then she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. " _I_  can be your gift, if you would like," she offered, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Oh I would  _love_  that." And he kissed her, tenderly but passionately.

"Hey, lovebirds, it's gift time!" John announced to the kissing couple and they seperated immediately, both blushing red.

Sherlock finally knew that he had everything he needed in life: A woman he loved, and people he cared about, who also loved him back. He knew sentiment had changed him, but he no longer thought that it was for the weak. No. He thought that these people weren't his weakness but his  _strength_. So he was very thankful to the one person who made him  _this_ sentimental in the first place:  _Molly_.

_The woman who counted and the one person that mattered the most._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *phew* That was a long one, wasn't it? Well, I hope you read it till the end and enjoyed it. I'd like to hear your last thoughts about this whole story so I'd LOVE it if you left a review. Because they make my day!
> 
> Thank you so much everyone, thank you sooo much!
> 
> 'Till another Sherlolly fanfiction...
> 
> Sincerely
> 
> ~Louvreangel


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